Hysterical Strength
by dietcokebreath
Summary: Post RE6. Unanswered questions and unfinished business will lead to greater repercussions than just the end of the world. Jake/Sherry. Warning (or invitation depending how you look at it): contains OCs, spoilers and sexual content.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: Title comes from the St. Vincent song. I don't own these characters, don't sue, blah blah.

**Summary**: Post RE6. The mission is over, and Jake Muller is safe, thanks to the decisive, gutsy valor of Sherry Birkin. However, questions left unanswered will always result in unfinished business, and Sherry will have to deal with the repercussions. Warning (or invitation depending how you look at it): contains OCs, spoilers, and sexual content.

**AN:** Jake's campaign had an excellent ending, but there were a few loose ends I thought needed tying. This story was written to help me deal with those ends, and hopefully it does the same for some of you. This first chapter could possibly be used as a walkthrough for the boss fight. Anyway, enjoy! - Raye

* * *

**Prologue**

They were going to put an end to this, once and for all.

Once and for goddamned all.

Their long tirade of being poked by Neo-Umbrella, having six months of their lives stolen, prodded in the Chinese research facility and being used as perennial lab rats was enough to make either of them just _outright fucking pissed_, but this, this was the last straw. The Ustanak that had been stalking them (or rather stalking Jake) roared beneath her, slowly sauntering angrily towards Jake on the narrow catwalk they once both stood upon. Sherry hovered above on the scaffolding of the sweltering room after being knocked away from her partner, who was trying to make do as best he could without any weapons. Her trusty sniper rifle was knocked into the unforgiving molten lava-like substance, and she swore at herself for not keeping it better secured to her person.

_I could have taken a shot from up here, and I'd knock his brains out,_ Sherry thought wistfully, but figured action was better than regret. She mustered some leftover strength and quickly bounced up from her cowered position and towards where she could find a resource to assist Jake from her position.

She looked down upon the scene below her and frowned. Jake was trying to hold his own against the lumbering beast.

"We'll just settle this mano a mano," she heard him announce from below.

He was a master at hand to hand combat and he _should _be fine, but given both their weary and weathered states, the extra help would probably be appreciated.

Sherry came across an industrial cargo-moving mechanism stationed in the center of the arena. _Interesting, _she thought. She took a few moments to understand the structure of the rail system and how the launch control pad was similar to switch controls at a railroad yard. She grabbed the knob of the computer system and moved it, making the box of cargo point in the direction of the Ustanak and Jake's battle.

She launched the cargo box, and it swirled down the rails with hasty purpose. It swooshed past the two fighting below, and missed the Ustanak by a few hairs. A distant crash was heard on the opposite side of the boiling room.

_Shit,_ Sherry thought.

She gave a sigh of relief when a second cargo box appeared beneath her. She noticed that the Ustanak was slowly cornering Jake to the far right end of the scaffold, and a few poorly launched boxes would result in a loss of precious time, and probably in a loss of Jake.

"Any day now, Sher!" Jake said through gritted teeth, ducking and countering a swinging punch from the lumbering, ugly assailant.

"Yeah yeah yeah," Sherry said as she positioned the launch on the final rail. She deployed the box, and it smacked the Ustanak with a pleasurable _smack! _Dumbfounded and stunned, the Ustanak stumbled a few steps back, leaving him wide open - and vulnerable - for Jake to unleash a fury of attacks that would hopefully disable his main attack mechanisms.

"Hey, motherfucker," Jake announced from below. "It's dinner time."

With the frightening grace and speed of something not remotely human, Jake landed a second stun attack on the Ustanak, making him haphazardly stumble further back. No longer with the intention - or ability to retaliate, Jake knew he must land the coup de gras on his assailant soon, or both he and his partner would be either mince meat or at least stuck in that awful room for a little while.

He swung a finishing punch at the Ustanak's head with such strength and precision that Jake swore he felt his fist _penetrate _the ugly piece of shit's head; and that's because it did. The Ustanak's jaw became unhinged, and the meat surrounding his now fractured skull flopped loose, turning it grotesque shades of purple, blue, and green.

_Good foresight on wearing gloves, _Jake thought as he figured he probably wouldn't get time to wash his hands after this fight.

The Ustanak teetered towards the boiling floor, but somehow maintained his balance on the edge of the scaffold, the macabre tool of death that was his arm resting on his knee.

_Jesus,_ Jake thought,_ just fuck off already._

With a final swift roundhouse kick in the back, Jake knocked the Ustanak into the boiling liquid below - and before Jake could even confirm that the monster's living cells were frying to a crisp, he looked up at Sherry, her eyes wide with concern.

"Let's move!"

She replied without hesitation. "Roger!"

A few beads of sweat rained down from Sherry's forehead. She noticed a doorway that lead out of the now uncomfortably sweltering room. Jake ran and jumped up to her position, and the partners were now reunited.

Sherry peered down briefly at the once-terrifying monster, now with the physical (and probably mental) consistency of a hard boiled egg. She couldn't help but stare for a little while; it was quite a gruesome death for their ex-stalker, but looking at the scene below at least gave her a little closure.

"Let's haul some ass," Jake said, grasping her hand and gently tugging her forward, without looking down or back.

_He doesn't have a sympathy mechanism - at all, _Sherry thought. _Not even for himself._

The two dashed across Sherry's catwalk and out the exit as alarms started to blare behind them. The electricity that powered the elevator that had gotten them to the battle room had surged through the plant and now the entire building was on meltdown - they had to find a way out of the carnage, and quickly.

A flat railbed conveniently showed up near the exit.

"Who put this here?" Jake said with a wry smirk.

"Let's just get it moving," Sherry said, climbing up towards the railbed's control panel. She pulled the ignition pullcord once, then jerked it back a second time, then greeted with the pleasurable roar of the railbed's motor growling and humming. The rising fire behind them began to blast through the corridor, and despite the stress, Sherry couldn't help but grin to herself as the railbed began to pump forward. _History truly does repeat itself,_ she thought.

The two sat near each other, speechless for a moment, staring back at the glow of the melting core of the facility chasing them through the corridor. Neither one could speak. Sherry looked over at him and studied his features. He was tense but cautious, hardened but not cold. Her eyes traveled from his furrowed brows to the long scar on his cheek leading to his chiseled jawbone. She thought briefly about what they had been through, and how he had tried to comfort her but they would lose time and opportunity, and wondered if they would ever regain anything, or if he had already forgotten. She wanted to hold his hand again, hell, she just wanted him to touch her elbow or shoulder again. It made her feel human, and she thought - well, she _hoped _that he at least experienced something similar.

Maybe she was just imagining he cared, but she found herself dismissing all of his gestures a little too much. Anyway, it was dumb, and she put any thoughts on the situation on the backburner. _Not important,_ she kept telling herself. _Not important to the mission._

Their silence was interrupted by the angry, bellowing, distorted features of the Ustanak materializing out of the molten flames.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Jake attempted to stand up, but the recoil of the railbed hitting a bump caused him to stumble on all fours.

He looked up at Sherry, who was in a similar position. She was knocked further back on the railbed, inches from the Ustanak's grip. In that moment, he briefly remembered Sherry being pulled away from him by the numerous swarming J'avo earlier. He remembered the look of anguish in her eyes, and how she cried as he was pulled away, too. _She was crying for me,_ Jake thought. He wanted to return the favor, but he had yet to articulate how.

He tried to reach out to her, but she was just out of reach. Luckily, she was still physically sound, and started to crawl towards the front of the railbed. The Ustanak bellowed angrily behind them and brought a crashing thud on the railbed, causing both Jake and Sherry to dodge and roll on opposite sides.

"Fucker just doesn't know when to quit," Jake said.

"Look!" Sherry gestured to the front of the railbed; a S&W .45 Magnum rested conveniently beneath the railbed's control panel.

"I find it hard to believe people just leave this shit laying around," Jake mentioned.

The two attempted to crawl towards the magnum, once again a shining beacon of hope in the near distance.

Sherry managed to wiggle a little closer, and the thundering boom of the Ustanak's attack actually jolted her closer to the weapon. By her side, Jake was in the same position, body flat on the railbed, writhing slowly away. The firey appendages of the Ustanak, however, were writing slowly closer to them, too. Sherry felt the soles of her boots begin to become pliable from the scalding heat.

"Little more..." Jake encouraged beside her. "We can do it."

Sherry's heart skipped a beat on his last statement.

_We._

The blurry, incorrigible shadow of the Ustanak rising behind them was outlined on the railbed in a hazy fashion, and Sherry inched herself just close enough that her fingertips could graze the cool steel of the .45's barrel. Unexpectedly, Jake placed both of his hands on her hips and gently propelled her forward.

Sherry's hand wrapped around the black rubber grip of the revolver and swirled around on the railbed. Jake was steadily by her side, both of them crouched on all fours. Instinctively, Sherry raised the revolver in the direction of the distorted beast's figure, but the cadence of the railbed and the unevenness of the track caused her hand to uncontrollably quiver.

_Come on, come on, come on_, she thought, as she nervously wiped sweat off her brows with her shirt sleeve. Years of firearm training would maybe prepare her for this, but this shot - the entire world depended on her making this shot.

As tight as a grip she had on the revolver, she just _couldn't_ keep it steady. That's when she felt Jake's gloved hand wrap around hers, one of his fingers gently brushing against her trigger finger. She heard him exhale for a brief moment as he slowly ran his thumb down the back of her palm. They looked into each other's eyes for a brief moment; Sherry's wince of uncertainty meeting Jake's steely determination. Sherry felt an inexplicable tension in her chest, and it rose to her face.

"This shit ends now," Jake announced, nodding to his partner.

Gripping the revolver together, the two turned their heads forward. Truthfully, neither of them had much patience left, and they figured that if their stalker had wanted a proportionate, fanciful death full of explosions and grandiose fireworks, he might as well get one, given the persistence and stamina the ugly beast seemed to possess.

They both pulled the trigger simultaneously in an act of unspoken synchrony. The bullet from the revolver penetrated the flames and ruptured the cranial exterior of the Ustanak's head - and buried itself deep inside its brain.

Jake imagined the round bouncing around in the beast's skull; surely by now half of its brain matter would be disintegrated into scrambled egg. He enjoyed that image for a while, as the beast relinquished its grip on the edge of the railbed.

With a gurgling roar, the second manifestation of the horrid creature disintegrated before their eyes, fell back into the melting facility, and finally perished.

The two swirled around on the railbed, now facing the metaphorical - and literal light at the end of the tunnel.

_It's over? _Sherry thought._ It's really over?_

Her thoughts were interrupted by an arm slowly pulling her closer. She looked at her partner, soot and bits of dried blood covering his hardened face. The hot feeling around her face returned, and her physical being became a little uneasy.

"You saved me," Jake admitted, his steel blue eyes gazing carefully into hers as he held her tightly on the railbed, their bodies - their faces, inches apart. "You know that, right?"

She saved him. He was beginning to see that maybe she saw more in him, that she saw potential. That maybe he wasn't his father's son after all, but had the potential to be better, to do better, and he was starting to believe that now. Speechless, Sherry could just return his gaze. She owed him as much of her life as he did hers, and there was so much she needed to say, so much that needed to be finished, but there were no words.

Just the silence of the moment, and the rocky, rhythmic bounce of the railbed on the rusty tracks.

"Thank you," he finished.

She reached out for his other hand and squeezed it tenderly. He responded by wrapping his fingers around hers, and then for a brief moment, for just a moment, Jake felt himself skipping a few breaths.

_You're welcome,_ her eyes returned.

* * *

BUT WAIT THERE'S MOAR

First chapter coming very soon!


	2. Say Something

**Disclaimer:** Don't read if you don't like spoilers. There's a lot of those here.

**A/N:** Here is where the original story begins. Hope you enjoyed the prologue!

* * *

_Sherry stood up in the center aisle in the plane. "I left something behind, I left something behind!" A few stewardesses rush over and comfort her. The panic attack overtakes her as she clutches her chest and falls to the row of seats across from her, barely breathing. _

_I've forgotten something, Sherry thinks. _

_I've forgotten. Something. _

_Something._

_She can't remember what that something is._

Her eyes shoot open, and she groans.

_Second time this week,_ she thinks. Sherry has always had a little flight anxiety; usually that would feature a few situational nightmares. The scenarios would usually be rather pedestrian; one time, Sherry is stuck while going through security and she misses her flight, in another her bag is too big to go in an overhead compartment, or in another, she'll board the wrong flight altogether.

The threat in this dream had been ambiguous._ Maybe it's my Type-A personality_, Sherry figures. _I have it together, and this time I don't?_ She was steps away from consulting a web browser in her smartphone and looking up a dream dictionary; it would be like the grief counseling she had as a child after Raccoon City, all over again.

Cold, blue moonlight filtered into the white hotel room blinds. The temperature in the room was barely below tolerable, but Sherry wasn't ready to fumble with a thermostat with characters for numbers she'd have to decipher. Her mind was active and running a million miles a minute, but her body was in a state of rigidity. She knew that she would otherwise be asleep, but that wasn't going to happen tonight.

She rolled to her side and saw the boarding pass sitting on her nightstand. She was set to leave the Edonia City Holiday Inn Express and this whole godforsaken country for Washington, D.C. tomorrow morning. Admittedly, it would be good to soak her toes in American soil for the first time in six months; would be good to walk down the familiar hallways at work, go out for margaritas with her best friend, or even take a mundane jog in some ugly sweats around the neighborhood proper. The D.S.O was even nice enough to buy out the lease on her apartment while she was gone, and even went so far as to feed her cats and keep the utilities on.

A light emitted from her smartphone. Something inside her nagged her to look at the phone (as it usually is when those things go off), but she decided to rather attempt to sleep again. Her mind continued to run regardless, and she turned her thoughts to the events of this week.

After she and Jake escaped Lanshiang, the U.S. Government shipped them both back to Edonia, where they were both met by armored guards to be escorted to and questioned at the U.S. Embassy. Standard protocol after a dire mission that involves national security, they explained. Sherry managed to maintain her natural physical composure despite the stressful nature of the situation, yet Jake somehow still managed to remain Jake, just monosyllabic, curt, to the point, and blatantly factual, almost to the likes of hitting a hard, concrete wall.

Listening to Jake's answers in those sessions to the questions felt much like that. A giant liability - and a price tag rested on Jake's head, so the government was kind of at his mercy. There was a lot of yeahs, so whats, whatevers, and mehs emitted from Jake's mouth during questioning by the U.S. State's Attorneys that Sherry thought that she herself might give her inconveniently wiseassing partner a disciplinary backhand.

After questioning, they were to be held for a one week period before they would be allowed to go their own ways. They'd have to both go physical and mental evaluations with Army doctors, barraged with another round of questions by the Department of State, then finally, be debriefed by the D.S.O officially. The new president, who was formerly Vice President Josephine Bowman, was nice enough to put Jake and Sherry up at Edonia's capital city's nicest two star hotel.

"We decided to put you two in separate rooms," Sherry fondly remembers the call from the President, minutes after escaping the underwater facility in China. "This isn't a co-ed dorm," she said jokingly. President Bowman then told Sherry to rest up and that her country was proud, blah blah, we appreciate your service, then Sherry choked out a tired "thank you, Madam President."

Then, the week began.

Jake had been distant the whole time. Distant, maybe was an understatement; more like on the other side of the world. He would only look at her out of necessity, or when it was unavoidable. He wouldn't even give her mention during the questioning sessions unless she was part of the question, and his glances were short and furtive. He was slumped over with his head in his hand most of the time, shameless on showing his lack of interest.

Sherry was remembering one questioning session in particular.

A State's Attorney asked Jake, one day this week in front of a small international court, if he had any emotional attachment to the mission.

"No," he said bluntly, without emotion, without looking up. The stenographer in the background clacked seconds after his answer, looking unimpressed.

The attorney continued. "Do you have any emotional attachment to the BSAA?"

"Hell no." Jake looked upward. "You might be noticing a trend in my answers."

"Well, then," the attorney finished. "Are you at all at risk of any conflict of interest or emotional attachment to Agent Sherry Birkin?"

Sherry felt her throat swell. At that moment she didn't want to be in the room, let alone the same country, continent, or even on the same fucking planet as Jake Muller, and for a short while, she looked accusingly at everyone in the room, wondering whose goddamn great idea this was. A ball of nausea formed in the pit of her stomach.

She saw Jake twitch his lips from the corner of his eye. He shrugged.

"Nah."

Nah. _Nah?_ She became even more nauseous with now a nasty case of dry mouth, but didn't have time to process her confused emotions since the same questions were now directed towards her.

No attachment to the mission, rather working with Leon S. Kennedy, an old friend, for a short while.

She considers Chris Redfield a friend by proxy, and Piers Nivans is practically responsible for saving them all as far as she's concerned, but otherwise no real interest involved.

And her partner, Jake Muller?

Just following orders, she said._ The mission is all there is._

Maybe the nagging feeling would just be something that would simply _go away._ He was just another partner, and she had many, male and female. Once the mission was over...well, it was over. There was a chance that paths would cross again, but the reunions weren't usually warm, or even friendly for that matter. As a mercenary, Jake would certainly understand. Finish the job, move on. Bag it and tag it, as was the nature of the job.

_He at least owes me one private conversation_, she thinks. _Maybe I owe him that, too_. She realized that she had just been as avoiding of him as he was of her, as soon as she realized the game. She'd see him in the hotel lobby and then quickly disappear into the women's restroom, they'd pass in the hallway and Sherry would keep her head down, pretending that he wasn't even in her vicinity. It hurt her to do it, but she had to play the game just as much as he did. It certainly confused the hell out of her, but for some reason, she silently agreed to played along. Maybe it was swallowing her pride, and maybe it was just simply a matter saving face in front of her superiors, but each day closer to the flight home was like another blow to the head.

The mantra of the evening kept repeating in her mind.

_He. _

_Wants. _

_Nothing. _

_To. _

_Do. _

_With. _

_You. _

She remembered the the cabin, the J'avo attacks, the locker room, the railbed. The way he touched her, some of the glances and looks. How he saved her from catapulted shrapnel, twice.

_All show. Nothing._

Her phone chimed again as a reminder, and this time, she obliged to reaching for it.

_From: Jake_

_To: Sherry_

_You awake?_

These had been the first words Jake had spoken to her in nearly a week. Her heart pounded with both unbridled joy and anger simultaneously. She wanted to reply with several texts, hell, she was ready to write him a goddamned novel. She wanted to punch him in the balls, she wanted to throw her arms around his neck.

Namely, she clearly wanted to write above all, _What the fuck is your problem, asshole?_

The reply she mustered:

_From: Sherry_

_To: Jake_

_Yeah._

She confidently - and coldly hit send.

It was now nearly 4AM. But now she had an itch that needed scratching, and lying in bed, waiting for a text reply from him was ten times more painful than the experiments performed on her as a child, more painful than being stabbed in the shoulder by a J'avo spear.

The tension from the week and the insignificant half-closure from the text was more than she could endure. She felt like screaming.

So she did.

She buried her face into a nearby pillow and began to _let fucking loose. _Her muffled screams into the down pillow had enveloped her blonde head so deeply. Her screams slowly began to disintegrate into sobs. She didn't know who she was tonight, and what was even truth now, and the wave movement of her body convulsing to syncopation with her sobs was the closest to comfort she'd had in nearly a week.

The crying didn't last for too long. She didn't cry often; it was reserved for intimate moments such as these, where she could shut her mind off as easily as she could shut off the lights. She sat there on her side, in the darkness for a bit, so out of tune that she almost didn't notice the soft knock on her door.

"Sherry?" A voice said outside the hotel room door. "You okay?"

_Jake._

* * *

You capture my attention

I'm anticipating,

I'm watching

I'm waiting

For you to make your move

-Lights, _Toes_


	3. Say Anything

**A/N**: Admittedly, I am straight, flat out _addicted_ to writing this. I'm going to try to crank out three chapters a week tops. Thank you all for the lovely reviews, favourites, and follows! (And this story has only been up for a _day_! You guys rock!)

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Sherry bolted from the sheets so quickly, she didn't notice the white linens twisting around her ankles. She stumbled, but awkwardly regained her balance by nearly knocking some of the room's lamps over. _Shit, shit, shit. Get it together, Birkin,_ she told herself. After freeing herself from the tangled grip of the bedding, a laundry list of to-do items flooded her mind. Fix hair and makeup. Get out of the granny nightie. Clear the laptop's browsing history. Hide the pizza boxes. Finally open the door and let Jake in.

_Also, get ready to demand an explanation, because he fucking owes me one._

She did a quick quality control check on her appearance. Grabbing a brush and some hairspray, she tousled her short blonde locks in a devil-may-care fashion; dabbled some pink lipgloss on her dry lips and then used that same gloss as a cheek stain to bring some colour back to her pale cheeks. She was going for the "I roll out of bed looking like this" look, and it appeared to materialize.

"Sherry?" Jake called softly from outside the door. There was a flat tone of urgency, and maybe a hint of desperation in his voice. _Good,_ Sherry thought.

"Just a minute," she shouted back.

_I'm wearing panties that cover my whole ass, check, and I'm decently covered elsewhere, check_, Sherry affirmed as she threw on the moisture-wicking, high performance gray government-issue D.S.O slim-fit tee over her torso.

Sherry made a futile attempt to calm herself down. Nodding while her arms were stiff as sticks, she ran through a few more mental inventories. _Okay, I'm ready for this, I am mentally prepared, I am in a proper state of mind for whatever the hell he wants at this hour._ What could he possibly want, anyway? Does he want to tell me to fuck off for once and for all before we graciously part ways tomorrow? Does he just want a copy of the transcript from the court sessions? Or does he-?

Sherry interrupted her own thoughts and swallowed the heart about to jump out of her throat by slowly opening the hotel room door. She left the chain lock on - and she peered out from the darkness, bright-eyed yet tired, curious but concerned. Given the way they had treated each other this week, half out of anger and half out of embarrassment, she couldn't even bring herself to look at him.

"Yeah," she said emotionless, staring eye level at his chest through his olive green t-shirt.

"Sherry...please. I need..." He stammered a bit, then coughed. "Please, can I...come in?"

Sherry's head tilted up at him in confusion. Jake's eyes were half closed, his head down. He sighed and rested his weight on the doorway of her hotel room; he was having trouble maintaining his balance. A distinctive yet familiar aroma hit her nose.

_Is he...drunk? I can't believe- _

With a growling sigh, she unhinged the chain, pulled him into her hotel room, and quickly closed it behind her.

"Jake-" She began sternly, holding his forearms while trying to look into his tired eyes. "How much did you have?"

"Beer or two," he said nonchalantly.

Sherry let go of his arms and coldly turned away. Jake ran a hand through his close-cropped red hair and placed a hand against a nearby dresser. The towering mercenary was now dressed down, his towering frame in some plain pajama pants, a thin olive green tee shirt covering his broad shoulders and chest. He shook his head vigorously to make the room stop spinning, and he coughed. His prior engagement with a bottle of premium Edonian vodka before showing at Sherry's doorstep made his mental equilibrium spin slightly, but truthfully, Jake had many more intense drunken nights like this with his merc buddies back in the day. It was nothing he couldn't handle. He was just thankful he was able to get enough into his system in that he'd have the testicular fortitude to even show his ass up, but not to where he'd pass the fuck out in a hallway, only to have Uncle Sam court martial his ass for public drunkenness or even contempt of court.

It wasn't wise, but he needed to see her. He wanted to tell her why things were the way they were, why it was better off this way. He wanted to give her a logical explanation, and then maybe she'd understand. She'd shoo him out the door, offended by his lewd drunkenness, and this week, which to him, seemed longer than the six months they spent in China, would finally be over. He gazed down at his ex-partner through his buzzed haze. Even at 4AM, she managed to make with the upkeep. Jake had the experience of seeing her somewhat undressed before, albeit accidentally. At least this situation would be a nice mental image he'd keep for a while. Blue panties and a gray tee. Nice.

_Say no to being a handsy drunk, at least not tonight, Jake,_ he reminded himself.

"Jake," Sherry began. She had turned around and lead him by the arm to the hotel room's small, red-upholstered couch. Her voice was wavering, thin, and full of nervy aggravation. Jake finally brought himself to look in her eyes, and he saw concern and confusion.

"Talk to me. Please."

Jake sat up in his seat and rested his arms on his knees. He turned his head towards Sherry beside him, who sat upright, cold, and nearly shivering.

"I think you know why I'm here," he said flatly, staring at the carpeted floor.

Her heart sank at the accusation. "Oh, indulge me," she replied sarcastically.

Jake sat up and sighed. "Yeah, how?"

Sherry choked back what she hoped weren't tears. "You haven't spoken a word to me since we left China. You won't even look at me during the court sessions. You give me two-word business-only replies when I try to talk to you."

Sherry scolded herself silently._ It's probably the money. The feds won't cough up his money, so naturally, he's pissed. Typical. Should've known. _

"You went from- pushing me away from flying cars and holding my hand after gunfights to not even-"

He interrupted her. "Sherry, I'm sorry if I hurt you, but you of all people should know there's more at stake, here."

"You're not even listening." Sherry instantaneously regretted saying this; it wasn't a fair comparison on her part. She lied to the court in retaliation to Jake's statement, as he mentioned that he had no emotional attachment to her whatsoever.

Jake turned his head slightly towards her, gruffly. "You haven't exactly been my best friend, either."

"How was I supposed to react to being ignored? I'm not going to beg for your attention. Our work relationship may now be over, Jake but-" Sherry stopped herself, half out of anger, half not knowing what exactly she was trying to convey. A stream of I want/I need filtered through her head, but what wants and needs those were, she couldn't comprehend or even begin to manifest through words. Her brain was a sea of confusion, and he was simply rocking the boat.

With the vodka's help, Jake broke the awkward silence between them. The fact that she was upset with him was a burden he did not want to carry.

"Sherry. Do you realize..." He trailed off.

Sherry sniffled and sat upright, rigid. "What."

Jake turned his head slightly toward her. "Sherry, you do realize that...we're probably never going to see each other after this, right?"

The words hit her as if the catapulted car would have slammed her anyway.

_He's probably right,_ she thought. _The court would consider it a conflict of interest. We'd both get shitcanned. For treason. For violating national security._

"Is that why..." Sherry began.

"I couldn't hurt you," Jake started. "Do you honestly think it would be better the other way? Or this pleasant scenario, where you go back home, you forget about me, you file our meeting in a little manila folder and we forget we ever crossed paths? I owe you my life, Sherry, but not at the cost of it."

"That was never my intention," Sherry retorted.

"Even if it isn't, it's still not safe. You and I both know that. Even if we wanted-"

"So then, you do," Sherry said, now confirming holding back a few tears.

"I do what?" Jake said, annoyed. This situation wasn't any easier with the vodka buzz, but rather more difficult. He was hoping he'd say what he needed to say, maybe give her an awkward hug, later get completely obliterated at the hotel bar to the point where he can't stand straight, throw some bath salts in the tub, then maybe read a book to keep himself occupied while her flight carries her back home to the States. He couldn't tell if he was saying too little or saying too much; or if she was hurting as much as he was. He had known a lot of pain in his prior work, but no mission, nothing would ever prepare him for this.

"Care," Sherry said to the ceiling. He felt as if his heart was being ripped out of his chest. She had cornered him into a confession, or rather he may have drunkenly stumbled into one.

Jake turned his knees so he could finally face her. A few tears welled in her gorgeous blue eyes, and his stomach churned at the sight.

_I never wanted to hurt you, Supergirl._

He took her hand into his and interlocked their fingers, just as they had last week on the railbed. She moved closer, and he took her into his arms, and they sat together on the sofa in silence. Jake took an odd comfort into knowing that she was just as confused and scared as he was. He breathed deeply and took her scent in; it was aura of strawberries that came from her hair. It smelled raw, feminine, and it filled his nostrils and traveled directly to his brain. A few other bodily prompts began to let themselves be known, and Jake sighed at his physical reaction. _I can keep telling myself it's the vodka,_ he thought.

Sherry felt her appendages become pliable and warm from the embrace. She nestled her head in Jake's neck, her cheek touching the bare skin. She felt the temperature of her cheek shoot from the contact, and her arms wrapped around his torso greedily, just as she had done on the back seat of the motor bike as they zipped through the last of China. The warmth radiated through her body, in places inside her she had ignored for months. Something unspoken wanted more, but her body was having some issues communicating to her brain.

She pushed all thoughts of the impending future out of her mind. The truth was, they had none together. However, they had but this present, in the cold, blue glow of a sterile hotel room, she knew the strength of his arms and the mutual understanding - the _mutual _understanding. This was potentially their last night together, let alone last anything together. With a heavy heart, Sherry gently pushed herself away from Jake's arms, her hands now creating a physical distance between them once more.

Sherry looked into his eyes, and there was a different presence there; his eyes were slightly glossy. Gone was the steely cold gaze he had during battle, gone was the scowl from his lips or even the snarl from his handsome jawline. He was at peace, his eyes filled with unspoken emotion. She knew Brooding Jake, Angsty Jake, and even Drunk Jake - but his new vulnerable persona was the most foreign to her yet.

Gently shaking, he took her hand into his once again, and she noticed his eyes travel to her lips for a brief moment, then back up. An impulse signal shot through her spine and to her brain.

And with that, she leaned forward.

* * *

Please say something  
'Cause everyone thinks you're gone  
And they were right baby, you're gone  
I'll never see you again  
Unless you wait up, holding my hand

Say Something, Sucre


	4. Strange Mercy

**Disclaimer: **This chapter contains some srs bsnss. If you're under 18, you might want to sit this one out.

**A/N: **I don't think I can be thankful enough for all of your kind words and encouragement. I will have to come clean to my husband sooner or later about what I'm doing on here. -_- (I NEED TO WRITE THIS STORY SO I CAN FUNCTION IN REAL LIFE OKAY)

* * *

Sherry leaned forward, and in a twist decision, misdirected her head to the left - and landed awkwardly square on Jake's shoulder. His shoulder blade came into direct contact with the bridge of her nose. She shook free from the loose grip he had on her hand, and used the free appendage to ease the pain on her face.

She felt Jake's form stiffen underneath her, and maybe it was an action of relief on his part. To her credit, hey, she _almost_ went through with it._ Told ya so. Chicken shit. A for effort._ So close yet, so far. Without looking at him, she abruptly stood up, her hands briefly in her hair, then to her side.

"You...should probably get going," Sherry said impatiently, her hands on her hips. Exhausted she, just wanted him out of the room. It would be more of an awkward departure now, even more so with the stunt she just pulled. She would sit alone for a bit. Quickly, or more than likely slowly push him out of her mind for once and for all.

"You need to leave," Sherry blindly gestured towards the door with a shooing motion suitable for an animal.

"Do you really mean that?" Jake said flatly, now with his head down, his hulking upper body resting on his knees. The light hit his shadow in a way that reminded her of the cold ambiance of the Ustanak's chamber.

"Yes," Sherry said through gritted teeth.

"Really. You expect me to believe some government agent who willingly lied _under oath_ to her own people to soundly come clean at the drop of a pin to someone she _barely even knows_." Jake's singsongy-tone caused Sherry to fee her buttons being pressed - rather forcefully.

"I don't have to explain anything to you," Sherry replied, spinning on her heels in his direction.

"Five minutes ago, that wasn't the case."

"I'm already in enough trouble, Jake, and if you just get the hell out of my sight _right now_, I might just be able to revive what little _dignity_ I had left."

"So you admit it? You lied to the feds."

"Oh, like you're some sort of beacon of truthful enlightenment."

"At least _I know_ where my allegiances are."

Sherry stepped forward, her arms crossed, shaking her head mockingly at him. "Oh, yeah, the money. How could I forget? I'll make sure the President sends you a cigar that you can go _fuck yourself _with, along with that check."

"Sherry, it's not just - ugh, _god_." Jake stopped himself for a moment. He stood up and raised a palm to his pounding left temple - he felt a migraine headache about to crash on his temporal lobes."You really believe it, don't you? That's all I came here for. Just to piss you off before you fly back home and give Uncle Sam a high-five after you de-board the plane while I wallow in this shithole of a third-world country so I can have a supply of freshly cut American bills to freely wipe my own ass?"

"Only to rub it in my face a little longer," Sherry said coldly, arms folded, inching closer, hoping she'd intimidate him and he'd finally give up. "You couldn't even come here sober. What are you so afraid of, anyway?"

"I cannot_ believe_ the amount of _shit _you are so full of right now," Jake said, almost growling, now standing, towering over Sherry's smaller frame. "You could give _less fucks_ in an empty room about me, and believe me, it shows."

"Then why are you really here?" Sherry was at her boiling point, demanding, breathing through her nose heavily. Their faces were both emitting a rather radiant heat, comparable shades of glowing crimson.

Their were bodies now centimetres apart, in defensive stances similar to two dogs about to fight in the wild.

And on that, Jake pulled her towards him and engulfed her in a hungry kiss. Without any hesitation, Sherry's arms compensated by wrapping around his shoulders, her hands running over as much real estate of his body as they possibly could. His lips were surprisingly pliable; he tasted as she had expected, the notes of vodka fading from his breath. Sherry opened her kiss, and he complied with the unspoken command by tenderly embracing her tongue. She cupped his face in her hands, her fingertips running down the deep scar, trailing it from his high cheekbones down to his rigid neck.

Pulling away for a brief moment, Jake rested his forehead on Sherry's, then his kisses began to travel down to the curvature of her neck. She gasped at the sensation and dove her fingertips beneath his thin t-shirt, forcefully lifting the shirt over his head. He helped her tug it off, and he evened the score by wrapping his strong hands around her petite waist, caressing the bare skin before revealing the curvature of her pale, naked breasts. Sherry pressed herself against Jake's bare form, and he lifted her briefly; it caused Sherry to jump upwards and wrap her legs around his torso, his hands supporting her supple ass.

"Bed," Sherry gasped feebly into his ear.

"I'll have you screaming," Jake growled, a bar that he raised high, hopefully for his own benefit.

The two crashed upon the springy mattress with a quick resolve. The clothing, what minuscule pieces that had existed prior were now littered around Sherry's hotel room without any hint of reluctance.

Sherry forced Jake onto his back with an acrobatic roll, and she found herself straddling his hips, her small hands planted on his solid chest. She leaned in and their lips met once more, this kiss a little more well thought-out yet interrupted with intermissions of playful bites and licks. Jake broke the embrace by coyly tugging on the lacy hem of her light blue panties. She obliged by sliding them off while still managing to lay on top of him; after impetuously throwing them behind her, she plopped back down onto his body, only his boxer briefs remaining. Through the thin cotton, Sherry felt the growth of his arousal and proceeded to intensify the scenario by gently rocking her hips against his, which Jake met with an equal resolve.

Grabbing his weathered hands, she guided them toward her breasts. He kneaded them meticulously and took a nipple in his mouth, giving it a satisfying hardness. She squirmed on top of him a moment, this time to remove the boxer briefs that fell off Jake's long legs in astounding ease, revealing the rather impressive shaft of his manhood. Sherry reached for it behind her; it felt like hot marble in her soft hand.

"Are you..." Jake coughed. "On the. You know."

_Shit. _Always being an advocate for preparation, Sherry had been on the shot prior; she took her last dosage slightly after she left the country for Edonia, and knew that it had a refill date that was well past its prime. The Army doctors, probably after an extensive review of her medical file, had a supply on hand to renew her dosage.

"Had the shot a week ago. Should be in the clear. You don't happen to have any condoms, anyway, do you?" She asked in the darkness, biting her lip.

"I'm not the condom-in-wallet kind of guy," Jake said flatly. "I'm classy, you know."

"Ha, right," Sherry exhaled, and she proceeded to arch her back, and with an aiding thrust on Jake's part, she impaled herself slowly on him. She shuddered a moment, head down as Jake bucked once again beneath her. Her hands on the mercenary's chest, she began to meet his slow thrusts with precise ministrations, working strengths that she used long ago, but not forgotten.

"Shit," Jake said breathlessly as he now felt all of her from the inside. Truthfully, he hadn't been laid in months; sure, there were women around his platoon, some of them professionals, most of them amateurs, and he did not hesitate to partake in occasional dire activities. He was ashamed to admit that in the past, he was not always conscious of the philosophy of mutual gratification, but this time he wanted - no, he _needed_ to show Sherry that he was, in fact, no longer plagued with material self-interest; he was dedicated to, at least now, pleasuring her. He wanted indentations tailed with comet-shaped scars in his back from her fingernails. As the thrusts sped, he bent his knees, giving him a more effortless angle to hit some of her most sensitive areas, and Sherry reacted with a low, slowly escalating moan.

"You good?" He asked from below with a smirk.

"Yeah, I'm great," Sherry breathed from above. Jake could barely make her toothy grin out in the dim light.

"Hold on." He squirmed out from beneath her and pulled her legs towards him as he stood over her on the bed. He slowly re-entered her and began to reestablish his rhythm.

"This OK?" He asked again. Sherry could see his face clearly above her; his harsh brow and angled facial structure were softened in the dim lighting. His eyes were wide for the feedback; steadfast and diligent, like a good student. Ready to take notes, wanting to learn with an insatiable curiosity.

"Try this," Sherry took one of his hands and guided it to the sensitive nub directly over where they met, placing his thumb directly on its core. "That'll do it," she confided. And that it certainly did. Sherry remembers the long night she discovered it a few years back; it gave her a strange pride - and certain closure, to finally give that secret to another human being.

"I'll remember that," Jake said. He flickered his thumb over it, steadily increasing his rhythm. This instantaneously made Sherry twist her fingers in the sheets while biting a nearby pillow, her legs now flailing wildly in the stale air. "God...god...god...god..." she began to quietly moan.

"You've forgotten my name already. Tsk tsk." Jake couldn't help but grin with self-satisfaction at his own cheesy joke. Leaning over her more closely, he picked up harder and faster, and she contributed to the effort by supporting her upper body on her forearms.

"Cum for me, Sherry," he implored earnestly, breathing in her ear. "Please cum for me."

He didn't have to ask her again. She gasped so loudly at first, she thought a few Secret Service agents would discover Jake missing, then knock questioningly at her door for all she knew, probably right as they would barely finish. Controlling the audible sighs coming from her vocal chords, she brought them down just low enough until where it had been time for him to let go himself. He positioned a few last angled thrusts, throwing his head back and then emitting a throaty growl as he finished inside her.

With arms spread in an exhausted haze, Sherry collapsed onto the hard mattress Jake slowly pulled out of her, resting his forehead on hers, breathing raspily, her eyes as wide as his. Sherry recognizes the sudden flash of mixed concern and fascination in Jake's eyes. She remembers being rudely interrupted with the attack on the cabin from earlier; he had shielded her from the initial blast of bullets and glass just as he had her pinned here tonight.

_Maybe he remembers too_, Sherry thought, still staring up at him.

"It's you," she whispered to him, blinking.

He nodded, the back of his fingers pushing some of the light blonde bangs off her forehead. "It's you."

_"I'm sorry, miss, but next flight we have out to Washington D.C. leaves...in six hours," the airline clerk said in her best rehearsed English._

_Three of the airport's security checkpoints had broken down, and a slew of travelers were bottlenecked into one station. Sherry ran through the terminals hopelessly, only to see the plane take off from the wide windows. Six hours? Sherry's pulse quickened. I need to have this report presented to the U.N by 1300, and there better be free Wi-Fi on this plane or else I will-_

Her smartphone's marimba morning alarm blared cheerfully.

Sherry looked groggily around the room, twisting to her side. The first thing in view being her boarding pass - with a twist to the other side, the next, surprisingly still at her side, a lazy arm draped across her waist was Jake, his sleep completely undisturbed by the alarm's buzz. His mouth was slightly open, snorting intermittently between breaths. _There's something endearing about that,_ Sherry thought.

_Namely, he's still here._

Sherry could count her one-nighters on one hand. Most would sheepishly bow out sometime before the sun came up, a few would awkwardly hang around past welcome until otherwise shooed out of her apartment. Jake's hand still on her naked hip, he rubbed her back in his sleep. On her side, she turned away from him, and he unconsciously began to spoon her, his sharp nose poking the crevasse of her neck.

_I could get used to this someday, _she thought. Flashes of images ran through her head. She imagined some plausible scenarios. Riding in his car after a date at the movies. Holding hands at a park picnic at sunset. With her always was an ambiguous male figure, and she attempted to insert Jake in his place. Her mind worked overtime at the process, but the images were muddy.

Her daydreaming was interrupted by the cast of two large shadows overcasting the bright sunlight. The figures halted at the hotel room door, then followed with an urgent pound.

"Agent Birkin!" A raspy male voice called out. A few staggered knocks followed.

_Seriously? This has to be the worst possible time to-_

"Agent Birkin, respond. That's an order!"

She reluctantly peeled Jake's arm off her body. Hobbling around the small room, Sherry was just beginning to locate a bra, or at least a simple nightshirt to cover up, when she heard a thundering clamour behind her.

"AGENT BIRKIN!"

Sherry turned her head to see a barrage of armed reserve officers behind the busted wooded door, their weapons drawn, dark barrels all pointed squarely at her. A few jaws dropped, but mostly all were frozen, inferably from shock.

She could do no more than stare back.


	5. Move In

**A/N:** I can't thank you guys enough for all of your favourites, reviews, and follows. Fuel for the twisted object known as my writing brain! Keep it coming, you beautiful people. xo Raye

* * *

A few seconds of dead silence.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

Some of the officers shyly turned away, the barrel of their guns pointed to the concrete outside. Sherry was able to save some modesty by grabbing a nearby pillow, hunched down, trying to literally cover all of her bases. The invasion had come to an anticlimactic halt.

"We're...uh, truly sorry, Agent Birkin," an older gentleman looked down at his own suit and rubbed the back of his neck gingerly with a hand adorned with a giant college ring.

_I can explain, please don't shoot, I can explain, please don't shoot, I can explain, _Sherry rehearsed to herself internally. In a momentary panic, she head-jerked over to Jake in the bed, but her jaw dropped to find him no longer there. She shook her head and refocused herself, hoping that her astonishment went unnoticed.

"As you should be," she then scolded sternly. "I demand an explanation right this minute!" Hands on her hips, she had forgotten she was holding up the bedsheet to her body, causing her to drop it and pick it up posthaste while giving some theatrical grumbling.

"Of course, ma'am," the gentleman, whom Sherry could only assume was a commanding officer, stepped forward, looking at the floor. He had a shiny plastic badge on his breast pocket, another D.S.O. lead agent by the name of Aaron Wilcox, potentially her superior, or at least one of them. Frozen for a bit, the officers kept themselves otherwise occupied, all trying hard to ignore the naked female agent.

Wilcox sheepishly began to approach the infuriated Sherry when he hesitated a moment and looked back at his supporting platoon. "STAND DOWN, YOU FUCKING IDIOTS!"

Slowly, they all began to turn away, muttering unintelligible litanies of apologies.

Wilcox winced. "Shut up and show a little respect!"

The officers, now silent, trudged away awkwardly, the swish of their government-issue pants the only thing audible for a few seconds.

"Ma'am-" Wilcox began, his hands folded. "May I have a seat?"

Sherry nodded curtly, and without speaking gestured to a nearby chair annexed to a writing desk. She wrapped herself tightly in the white bedsheet, fashioning it into a makeshift tube dress. She sat on the edge of the bed, somewhat frightened and somewhat livid, hoping the latter was the more obviously displayed emotion.

"Agent Birkin, I understand you're catching plane back to Washington in a few hours. I recognize we've already debriefed you for this mission, and you no longer hold any further obligation to our operation in Eastern Europe. We'd like to also thank you once more for your service to your country...as your actions have lead to the C-Virus vaccine being ready for deployment worldwide."

"Go on," Sherry said snappily, her hands folded in her lap.

"Ma'am..." Wilcox coughed and corrected himself. "Agent Birkin, Jake Muller has gone missing. A few agents checked on him on detail last night around 9:30 PM, and he's been AWOL ever since. We barged in on you because...well, frankly, we thought that Muller had taken you hostage, or worse: you two might have been apprehended by local insurgents interested in bounties that may be on your heads."

"Oh." Sherry's abbreviated response was met by Wilcox, who was finally able to gather the courage to look her in the eye.

"So therefore, you can understand why we might have used...well, desperate measures to insure your safety." Wilcox balled his hands together in front of him. He was a gentleman maybe in his early forties, with a slight onset of balding; slightly overweight, with a Texan drawl.

"I understand, but my privacy is certainly not a matter of national security," Sherry replied tightly.

"Point taken, ma'am, and we are truly sorry. Anyway, we were wondering if you had any whereabouts on Muller, if he's contacted you...even thought it seemed in those preliminary tests, he wasn't very fond of you at all," he said with a low chuckle.

Sherry narrowed her eyes to show the D.S.O agent that she wasn't exactly amused.

He straightened up and coughed. "Have you had any contact with Muller since your last debriefing session yesterday afternoon?"

Sherry looked him in the eyes, her poker face hardened. "Can't say I have."

"Agent Birkin, I'm sure you are aware that if you come into contact with Muller, you are to inform a superior agent immediately as-" Wilcox interrupted himself as he hunched suddenly pushed his earpiece in. "What? You mean he's been found? Hot holy dog, that's good news. Where was that fuck anyway?"

Sherry maintained the poker face and tilted her head in feigned oblivious confusion, wondering what Jake pulled, even further past the ninja-like invisibility it took him to get out of her bed, let alone out of the room.

Wilcox sat up, followed by a raspy cough. "Apparently the 'blood saviour of the world' got so shitfaced last night, he got alcohol poisoning and shacked up at a nearby hospital. Boy keeps slamming vodka tonics, we might have to get the whole world fucked up to save it."

Sherry swallowed. "Hospital?"

Wilcox shrugged. "One of those armpit Edonian med centers. Don't know exactly why someone would go there to _stop_ throwing up, but then again 'ol Jake barely passed his mental evaluation. Place is such a shitstorm, I wouldn't bother wasting manpower on it."

Sherry's eyebrow raised at the diversion. _How did he pull this off?_ Her mouth then twisted at the careless disclosure of Jake's medical data._ That's classified information, to be briefed by me and delivered securely to the U.N.'s medical chief of staff._

She regained resolve and stood up, this time actually remembering to hold the sheet to her bare chest. It flailed around her like a veil in the early morning summer wind. "Thank you..." she announced heavily, hoping Wilcox would take his leave. She slowly walked towards him for added effect. "...for your protection and consideration. I'm sure Mr. Muller would highly appreciate his privacy due to his current_ condition._ I promise to keep this incident out of the director's hands if you agree with that statement."

Wilcox nodded begrudgingly. "Agreed, ma'am, you have my word." He grabbed a handkerchief from the desk and handed it to her; an outdated yet apologetic cultural gesture. "Again, my deepest apologies, and have a safe trip back stateside." He made a slow half-turn and coasted out of the room.

"Asshole," Sherry muttered aloud as soon as he was no longer in earshot. She slowly closed the door behind him, and immediately drew the blinds. _Now where was Jake? _She immediately picked up the bed sheet dress and whirled it around herself, searching the room for forcible signs of exit wounds. Her feet pounded on the thin carpet, examining the furniture, the windows, the draperies and blinds. No pieces of wood, no physical damage to the walls besides the slight damage to the doorknob after it was kicked in by the military police. Nothing.

Her chest sank for a bit, and she looked around the room one last time. _Should've known. See you around, I guess._

Thanks to the incompetence of Wilcox's false alarmist pretense, she now had considerably less time to leave the hotel before her departure. On an impulse, she wanted to jump back in the bed and give it a good roll one more time. Maybe it still smelled like him, and that would be her final token before leaving. She had no tangible reminder of the night before, and instead of letting this bother her, she began hastily packing her belongings.

As she filled her government-issue duffle, bits of the past few months of her life started to compile itself: the now laundered white woven shirt she wore in China with a couple of stubborn blood stains, her shoulder holster, a couple of pairs of clean underwear, and finally, her favourite blue scarf, a gift from her friend Claire Redfield from a few years back. Sherry was about to fold the scarf and pack it away, when she smiled at the thought of being able talking to Claire again soon. Sherry tied it around her head instead, and began to pack her boots.

Bending in front of the dresser, she found one of the knee-high solid leather calfskin boots and grabbed it, when an inexplicable instinct told her to slowly turn around. Sherry swallowed, and she did, her head not wanting to move synchronously with the rest of her body.

At the end of the bed was a rising figure with a crown of dark red hair with two very large, inquisitive ice-blue eyes.

Sherry yelped and without thinking, threw the boot in the figure's direction.

"Ow!" Jake winced, even though he was not even close to being hit with the boot. "Sherry, it's me!"

Jake's naked arms rested on the edge of the bed as he slowly climbed from underneath it. He flung his smartphone onto the pillows first before hoisting himself up onto the covers.

Sherry shook her head as she dropped the second boot in astonishment. _He never ceases to amaze me. _

"You were...under there...the whole time?"

"Yep. Kudos on leveraging your way out of that, by the way. Negotiation level: mercenary." Jake began to hobble around the room, and Sherry sidestepped to give him space as he was searching and picking up bits of his clothes from last night.

Sherry's pulse quickened._ I sure hope Wilcox didn't notice those on the floor_.

"Thanks," she swallowed. "So,_ hospital_? How did you contact the D.S.O about you being in the hospital, let alone falsifying records?"

Jake looked up at her briefly before pulling the thin tee shirt over his pale, well-toned chest. "Oh, I didn't contact them. Had an old friend do it. Figures that the longer you stay in one area, the more networking you can do."

Sherry's arms folded inquisitively. "So you're not actually from Edonia?"

Jake shrugged. "By proxy through my mom, I guess, but I don't consider it home. I've been all over the world, working. Don't really have a nationality, I guess you can say. Believe me, I know it's weird, I have folks around these parts questioning my accent - or lack thereof all the time. You Americans don't think you have accents, right?"

Sherry shrugged in unspoken agreement as she watched him pull on the boxer briefs and the pajama pants, with a slight hint of sadness she couldn't quite explain. _Maybe we're both just dragging this out a little too far._

"Hey, I...really need to be heading to the airport. Flight is in a bit, and you see, I have this psychological condition where on the days leading up to a flight, I dream about it constantly and there's usually something that goes wrong and-"

Jake walked up to her and put a finger to her lips. The simple touch was enough to get Sherry to automatically comply with his command. "Hey. I'll take you."

"But- we're being watched, and if we-"

"It'll be ok," Jake insisted. "My bike's outside, and I can fit your stuff under my seat. And trust me, you don't want to call a cab, they only take certain forms of currency, if you know what I mean. It's the least I can do." The slight unspoken sparkle in his narrow eyes intrigued Sherry more. The gesture was certainly sweet on Jake's part, but she wasn't exactly sure if she wanted to carry on the imminent separation any longer. Admittedly, she wanted to wrap her arms around him again and nestle her cheek into his warm back and smell him once more. The thought made her happy, and she figured she'd allow herself a few moments of happiness; after all, she thought she deserved it.

Sherry hoisted the bag on her shoulder, and by learned repetition, checked the room for any belongings she might have forgotten to pack. Her eyes lingered on the bed for a moment, remembering the night before. _If only_, she thought.

"You ready?" Sherry was taken by surprise by the enclosure of her hand in his. She turned her head towards him and she caught his gaze; in the rays of sunlight peering through the blinds, a small smile crept on his face, and she saw more reminders of their night together. The earnestness, the attentiveness, always listening, always open. _Take me with you,_ she thought while studying his face, and she swore for a moment that something in her partner's eyes reciprocated the command.

"Yeah, I have been," Sherry said breathlessly, still holding onto him. She gave the small hotel room a last impulsive last look-over before she shut the dilapidated door.

_What happens in Edonia stays here, right?_

* * *

_From: Jake_

_To: Alexis_

_Thanks for your help earlier. Owe you one._

Alexis de Leon couldn't remember a time when three words made her happier.

She and Jake had similar conversations in the past; usually short and to the point of a primal need that needed to be taken care of. His current favour was rather simple - Jake wanted her to anonymously phone the American agency shacking up at the Best Western. She would pose as a nurse from the local hospital, saying that he had been checked in for something ridiculously silly - what did he want her to say? Ah yes, alcohol poisoning. Alexis could imitate the local accent quite well, as her theatrical prowess had evolved rather well during her short tenure as a reputed master mercenary. Just another simple job, although she found that fooling the American government was just child's play. A few drug cartels decided to nestle themselves in well in the Edonian mountainside, giving her plenty of work to settle temporarily, as well as be selective as to how to spend her time. Most of her contracts came from Central or North America - mainly localized sleeper cells of gangs wanting to check in on the regulation of their European business.

She was on a job to keep close tabs on the son of a local kingpin when she met him.

He was considerably younger at the time, scruffy, unkempt, prone to swearing like a sailor - but she was immediately drawn to that same unbridled arrogance and brash gait. She figured due to his inexperience, he would be easily taken under her wing - she knew how to negotiate with locals, how to flush out the best contracts, how to acquire less-than-legal means of self defense. She was certainly right. Alexis found Jake soon adapting to her combat styles, soon enough to her ways of handling pesky B.O.W.s, and eventually, in a few isolated bedroom incidents. Though tumultuous and short-lived, their stint together had some equally beneficial dividends such as a heads up on viable payouts, and favors such as these; his constant distance became a problem for her, and her lack of emotional health ultimately sent the relationship to its timely demise. Coming from a wealthy family of Lebanese and Spanish blood, Alexis would have no shortage of partners, amorous or in battle. She had no problem loving and leaving. Jake Muller was a special case to her, however; maybe it was because Alexis was proven to have quite the addictive personality, but her detachment from him was still a work in progress.

Her smartphone continued to glow steady in the darkness, illuminated by Jake's text. Maybe she could finally convince him to stay. Or at least she could anticipate where he was headed next, she'd offer to join him, they'd have a few nights of fun and they'd go their separate ways once again. The idea excited the female mercenary like no other. Stretching her long legs over a ledge while looking over the dimly lit city, she breathed in some of the cool high-altitude air the Edonian mountains offered, and excitedly typed out her reply.

_To: Jake_

_From: Alexis_

_I'll hold you to that._


	6. I Know What I'm Doing

**AN: **This one's a little longer than usual...anticipate some crazy-ass things to happen in this the next few updates. I think if Jake and Sherry actually existed, they'd come find me and punch me in the face, I'm putting them through so much crap.

Thank you all for enjoying this story! Your reviews are what keep me going. Also, I'm open to ideas, suggestions, and your own crazy ass theories, so feel free to contact me regarding any of that.

Also, if you're interested in getting sneak peeks at future chapters as well as some primo director's cut commentary, follow me on tumblr at .com.

* * *

Still holding her hand, Jake glanced down both sides of the dimly lit hallway. The smell of stale carpet deodorizers filled his nose as a few sterile carts filled with housekeeping items littered the pathway towards the exit. "This way," he whispered to her. They dashed through the narrow hall when Jake then slid into his own room momentarily to change, leaving Sherry outside. He closed the door rather nonchalantly, Sherry giving a slightly offended "ahem" at the clasp. He immediately noticed that the room was completely turned upside-down; his belongings were strewn on the floor, most of the room's quaint wooden furniture overturned. _Sure as hell hope I ain't getting the bill for this_, Jake thought.

"You think this is safe?" She said from outside. For some reason, Jake pictured her smiling as she said this.

"I happen to be a modest person that doesn't get naked in front of just _anybody,_" he said to her from inside the room, grinning. _Hopefully she understands that was a joke._ After sliding into a clean black cotton tee and some standard-issue khaki cargos, he slid out the door with the same clandestine manner. He was relieved to see Sherry had ignored, or at least refused to comment on his last statement. _Good to know we're back to not talking to each other_, he thought.

"We need to be very, very quiet..." Jake started in a low voice. He placed another finger over his lips and looked down at his partner, who gave him a blank, quizzical glance.

"Is this necessary? The government is practically out of our hair now."

"Maybe not..." Jake said with a slightly twisted smile. "But admittedly, it's kind of fun."

He took her hand again and they descended down a nearby staircase when his phone chimed with the familiar text tone. Jake crouched down and Sherry followed suit. Jake pulled his phone out and thumbed through the notifications. Alexis.

_From: Alexis_

_To: Jake_

_About that favor. Little bird says you're back in town. Catch up over dinner?_

Jake exhaled through his nostrils and contemplated a reply. With his lips pursed in forced conversation, he began typing while Sherry narrowed her eyes for a brief second.

_To: Alexis_

_From: Jake_

_Sure. Get back to you in a bit, a little tied up at the moment._

"Texting someone?" She asked with _maybe_ a hint of suspicion in her voice.

"Yeah, new job prospect," Jake answered, and immediately he felt a pang of guilt at the lie. Maybe he should just tell her already. _Yeah, that's a great idea. Tell a girl you just slept with -and maybe actually fucking care about- all about your batshit insane ex-girlfriend. _Jake didn't quite know how to break up with a girl he wasn't really with in the first place. Anyway, Alexis appeared to just _adore_ him - he wasn't dead or dismembered yet, so that's how he figured. She had connections like a corporate headhunter - and with proven results. As an added bonus, she was pretty decent in the sack and was usually good for a few rolls when Jake had an itch to scratch. Sherry entering the picture certainly complicated the equation. She was a variable that he couldn't quite solve for, and he envisioned crossing out formulas on notebook paper and promptly basketball-shooting the crumpled sheets to the trash. Sherry fulfilled as much of a want as she did a need, and this to Jake, was the most confusing to him of anything. Without question, she would have to remain a secret from Alexis forever, for Sherry's safety and for Jake's own future job security.

It was for the best. At least he kept telling himself that.

He looked up at her, and she smiled warmly with no pretense. Already feeling the biological response in his cheeks, Jake exhaled and decided he wouldn't ruin the moment, let alone Sherry's departure. The thought of having to meet up with Alexis so soon after seeing Sherry leave made his stomach turn a little. There was a new job for him on the horizon, and that was some compensation for the loss. Some nameless brains to blow out with a desert eagle or whatever new semi-automatic piece of murder metal Alexis had, something to erase the image of Sherry leaving his life. For the time being.

She put a hand on his shoulder, standing up, encouraging him to to the same. He began to rise when he heard a voice on the hotel's patio down below them. Jake peered below to see that Wilcox jerk that had embarrassed Sherry earlier, smoking a menthol cigarette with a soldier rather casually down below.

"Hell if I ever get holed up here again. Place is pretty much the geographical asshole of Europe," Wilcox said while exhaling, holding the cigarette between his forefinger and thumb. He brought the pinched, hand-rolled cigarette to his lips and took a long, greedy drag, the lit end glowing like an ember. The image made Jake roll his eyes. _What is he, a Nazi?_

"I guess that makes Sweden Europe's dick, right?" The officer mused beside him.

"That's not fuckin' funny," Wilcox replied.

Jake reeled off the side of the railing, shook his head and bit his dry lip. "Yeeeah. So we're not going down that way."

Sherry nodded. "Good call." Her head gestured to the other side of the hallway, and they both took off towards the staircase. The march of several boots could be heard carrying upward.

"Well, that certainly puts a damper on things," Sherry frowned and dropped her bag carelessly, turning away. Jake eyed a fire escape on the median of the hotel's hallway, gesturing towards it then over to Sherry. Her eyes widened as she slowly shook her head. Cupping his hands together in a familiar fashion, he bent down on one knee towards her with an encouraging smile.

"Oh no. No no no."

"You trust me on this one, right?"

Sherry looked behind her at the staircase - why couldn't we have just for _once_ taken the staircase down? - She picked up her bag, and ran towards Jake for momentum, and he flung her instantly in the air. With the precision of a magnet being thrown against a refrigerator, she latched onto the staircase and shook her head from the landing. Without any time to counter her reaction, Jake landed a rather acrobatic jump, the recoil from the landing instantly causing the fire escape to shake violently.

"I take it Edonian building inspections aren't very common," Sherry said flatly, grabbing tightly onto her bag - then even tighter onto Jake's arm, almost as a punishment. The bending, aging steel of the fire escape began to crumble under the weight and pressure, and the ladder attached began to slide away. Jake studied the internal structure of the inner ladders; they'd have to make a timely jump to each one to make it down, and they'd have to do it unnoticed. The overall situation make Jake a little dizzy, but with the woman on his arm staring intently on him, the dizziness - that's what he figured it was anyway - began to intensify.

It was about 10 meters on the descent, and figuring that the lower fire escape would be at least another 15 meters down, Jake estimated the distance they'd have to catapult themselves down. He traced his finger from their current position to the nearest fire escape, and then finally to the alleyway down below. His bike would be another 20 meter dash, a simple extra tangent on this problem. He would have to exert a certain amount of force to propel the weight their bodies properly to reach each landing point, and he had the mathematics almost down pat in his head, there were just a few more figures to subtract.

"What are you _doing_?" Sherry asked, noticing the mental activity in Jake's eyes.

"Trigonometry. And a little physics, too."

"This isn't really the best time to be-"

"You still trust me on this?" Jake said sharply, interrupting her.

Sherry exhaled exhaustedly. "Of course." She latched onto his back, and his head turned towards her on reflex. He caught a brief whiff of her scent as her arms wrapped around his neck - he couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly it was, but it was damn _intoxicating _and when he smelled it, he couldn't help but just want more, just a few more seconds of it - and oh, shit, the fire escape collapsing, that's still happening-

The mix of endorphins invading Jake's brain coupled with the sheer adrenaline rush of making this jump actually made him woozy. The addition of Sherry's body heat pressing against his back made a spark of electricity shoot from his brain stem and down his spinal cord. He used the momentum to gain a brief moment of unyielding momentum - and he jumped from the falling fire escape to the level down below, then used the leftover force to land gracefully down below on the alleyway on his back, minimizing the impact, and most importantly, leaving Sherry unscathed.

Opening his eyes, he looked above at the fire escape on the levels above, which had collapsed and hit the opposite wall of the hotel's courtyard. He had calculated the invisible equation correctly, and he smiled to himself. _Calculators are for pussies_, he thought to himself. His eyes fluttered, then refocused on Sherry, laying on top of him, breathing heavily. The look on her face said something along the lines of _the fuck was that all about? _

A slight red flush invaded her cheeks as she found his thigh wedged in between her legs, and he felt a slight tinge of heat building from her in that area. Hands on his chest, Sherry spread her fingers on his chest, opening a little wider as her tongue began to lick her own lips.

"Sherry-" Jake began as one of his hands began to ride up the back of her shirt.

"I-I-..." Alarmed at her own reaction, she began to stammer a bit, when Jake whirled in a reflex motion, rolling her on her back in the courtyard dirt. The ladder from the fire escape landed in the soft soil where they once were, penetrating it with a sullen thud.

"The hell happened here?" A voice from above called.

Without looking, Jake sprung to his feet, helping Sherry up in the process. They huddled in a nearby alcove, looking at the hallway above. A few soldiers stood once where they were, investigating the fallen fire escape and the ladder.

"Close one," Sherry said in a hushed voice, hoisting her bag on her shoulder a little tighter. She put a hand on his shoulder to catch a breath.

"Anyway, trigonometry?"

Jake glanced around the corner and pulled out a small handgun, keeping it close to his hip. "When I was growing up, my mom bought a bunch of old edition college textbooks and I schooled myself from those alone. Was writing derivatives in calculus when other kids my age were fucking with video games. That's what I do for fun, now, anyway. Scribble equations on walls in between mass murders. Fucked up, I know."

"Jake, that's...really impressive." Sherry looked down a moment, still trying to hide her prior frustration, which now may had worsened. "I...had no idea."

"It's nothing. Doesn't help the cash flow," he said, not looking at her, but upwards. Not noticing Sherry's skeptical eyebrow to his statement, he reached up and shot down the lingering awning above the officers standing over the fallen fire escape. With a gentle tug of her hand, they took off down the alleyway toward where his bike was located. Hearing the muffled, confused shouts of the patrolmen above was somewhat of a gratification for Jake. It was about as safe as he could get when it came to being a pain in the ass to the American government, and that made him smile.

Taking off towards the hallway, Jake barely remembered where his bike was parked - and was shocked to actually see it still there. Mainly because it wasn't technically "his." He had repossessed the bike from an assignment he had in the summer of 2012; he was to go to Somalia to dispose of a few pirates that were capturing freight ships delivering food to South Africa. Jake felt somewhat pleased with himself after accomplishing the last kill; some people might actually get around to being fed. More importantly, the bounty included was a paltry sum of a few thousand plus any physical possessions the now-deposed pirates possessed. He took a few pieces of gold, a couple of fancy watches he could probably give to Alexis (who always demanded extra commission) - but his biggest prize was the single bright red Ducati Superbike 1199 Panigale S that the pirates used for land surveying. It was powerful - 1198cc's, which was enough to catapult him all the way to the other side of Europe in a few mere hours.

Jake climbed on first, holding the bike steady as popped the back foot pedals out for Sherry to mount. She stepped on a pedal, swung her leg around and nestled snugly behind him, wrapping her arms around his chest. She rested her head against his upper back, and Jake turned his head towards her as he revved the bike up, feeling the warmth of the chassis already in his shins.

"You ready?"

Sherry balked at the question. "Yeah," she coughed. The gut response was different. She wasn't quite ready to leave, and wasn't exactly sure why. The more time she spent thinking, the more she was able to figure out the now-fading enigma that was Jake himself. She wanted to scramble her fingers through the puzzle pieces and twist them around a little longer. She was saddened to find out that he had such a great intellectual talent - and was not even close to putting it to productive use, although his brash calculations on the fire escape were deemed worthy of consideration. Maybe his mathematical intelligence was simply one of many inherited from his father - Sherry tried not to make constant comparisons back to Wesker, but the tendency to do so resided in the back of her mind. There was so much potential in him, and maybe he would at least have the sense to use his powerful mind to maybe one day help things other than his own bank account.

"Well, then. Let's go." Jake revved the bike once again, and the sudden spurt of the throttle caused Sherry to wrap her arms around him a little tighter. They took off into the streets of the nearby city, weaving in and out of traffic with Jake's experienced ease. Sherry whirled her head around to take in one last observation of the bustle of the capital's downtown area; merchants with makeshift rickshaw stands, farmers with produce to peddle on the streets, a mix of pedestrians in clothing from both the middle east and west. She could smell a pungent mix of poached meat broiling - perhaps pig - along with the aroma of bread rising and hardening in ovens. The capital city ran on an agrarian economy, and feeding people was perhaps the most lucrative of any business. Stray animals ran free in the alleyways, and although decrepit, a certain quality reminded her of a few American cities.

The landscape began to change - the inner city of the capital began to diffuse as smaller residential shacks replaced the hustling marketplace. Shacks were replaced with endless rows of growing beets, corn, soybeans, and wheat, distant silos littering the empty paved road slowly dissipated into gravel. Traffic began to clear as the only vehicles now sharing the open road were lead by draft animals, and then the occasional 50cc scooter. The airport was located in the outskirts of town, a little further from anything else, typical of any metropolitan airport besides the ones Sherry familiarized herself with back home. They passed a few undecipherable road signs in the Edonian dialect, when Jake swerved the bike off the road, rolling off the side into a ditch.

Sherry latched onto him in a panic. Her eyes dashed around as he instinctively shielded her body beneath him; she heard a few gunshots ring in the distance.

"The hell is happening?" Sherry shouted from beneath him.

"Not sure," Jake replied, peeking out from beneath his sunglasses. "Someone just shot at us, thought we should probably take cover. Fire back maybe. Gangs, maybe."

They were both armed, not on purpose, but by routine - at this point in both of their lives, packing at least a small .9MM was like putting on underwear. A few more shots rang followed by some undecipherable shouting in the distance.

"What are they saying?" Sherry asked. The pressure of his body rested heavily on her abdomen, and his shirt was slightly raised, giving her direct access to move him a little for some air.

"They think we're mules on the way to the airport. Apparently they haven't been getting accurate inventory so they're going after any vehicles that may be carrying some product to even their stock."

"It's always drugs, isn't it?" Sherry said flatly.

"Not always, but usually," Jake replied. "Anyway, I think reason is lost on these guys."

Moving off Sherry and drawing his weapon, Jake used the ditch as cover and fired two quick shots, one of them luckily hitting one of the gunmen square in the face. The other whizzed past the other gunman, and as the rustling of the nearby roughage became louder, Jake listened for signs of hesitation and fired two more quick shots, crouching back down immediately.

With her back turned to the fight while in the ditch, Sherry looked at Jake intently as he reloaded his weapon - his hands were large, not unusually large for a man his height. They sure were capable, and Sherry figured that they were probably hands that caused a lot of pain and suffering - hell, they were probably responsible for a few deaths. Looking at his taught fingers wrapped around the grip of the pistol, Sherry briefly remembered his hands on her body and began to think about being touched by him, and how the sensation was like no other. She couldn't think of anything stranger than momentarily wanting to be a gun, especially one in Jake's hands, but then again, she was lying in a ditch for cover after being assaulted by a faceless gang, simply needing a ride to the airport.

"You gonna help anytime this year?" Jake asked, not looking at her.

"Y-yeah. Sure. Of course." Slightly flustered, she drew her triple shot, wiping some of the sweat off her forehead, pushing her blonde bangs back. In synchrony with her partner, she raised out of the ditch, firing to the left in contrast to Jake's right, and after the offensive attack, the amount of gunfire began to reduce. He tossed an extra magazine towards her, and she shoved it in the triple shot's grip. After hearing the satisfactory click, she rose from the ditch and fired a few more shots, but all of a sudden felt herself knock back. Sherry hit the dirt hard, and before she knew what had happened, Jake drew a second pistol, firing angrily a few more times from above. The gunfire eventually stopped, and was replaced by the whirring silence of the farm road.

"Shit," Jake breathed. "Sherry, you OK?"

Sherry turned her head slowly to show a small round next to her shoulder; her white button down shirt was caked with the evidence of blood once being there, but the torn fabric underneath revealed no entrance wound.

Her body had already pushed the bullet out.

"You never cease to amaze me, Supergirl."

"Heh. Thanks." Sherry remembers being shot a few times and not realising it afterwards, during her training with the D.S.O as well as in China. It was always awkward and hard to explain, and even though she always healed, she always felt it, every time. There was always some pain involved in the process, and sometimes it lingered longer than others.

"I guess your clothes don't heal as well as you do," Jake said, gesturing to her seemingly bloody shoulder.

Propping herself on her elbows, she looked down at the now-ruined shirt - it was probably a best practice to not go to an airport covered in blood. She was in for at least a 10 hour flight; was probably best to find alternative means of clothing rather than wear a startling conversation piece such as this. Jake had already brought her bag over to her, assuming she'd want to change, and he was right; the moisture from the blood made the shirt stick awkwardly to her skin.

"Want me to...?" Jake's hand was on the zipper, silently offering to dig a new shirt out of the duffle for her.

"Yeah, sure." He extracted a clean white woven button-down shirt identical to the one she had on, and tossed it her way.

"It's amazing how many of these you have in here, really."

"Yeah, I'm full of surprises," Sherry said without emotion, immediately beginning to unbutton her top.

Jake's eyes went wide for a moment. He coughed for a bit, his heart rate spiking at the sight. "Shit. Sorry. I'll turn around." He did so, resting his forehead in his palm. He didn't want her to think that he just wanted sex, or that he saw her as some object; he couldn't quite articulate his feelings at the moment, he was just trying hard to calm himself down.

Sherry tilted her head at his reaction. Her fingers were blindly working the buttons of her blouse. "Jake. It's...okay. Really."

"What's okay?" He asked, looking back at her, still turned around.

"You...can look." Sherry was beginning to recognise the absurdity of the situation. Here he was, trying to ignore the pretense of it all; she could tell there was still something he needed to discuss, or at least act on. Their fight from last night was simply just a ploy to cover up his anxiety; he deliberately intended to seduce her, yet there was something he was not exactly disclosing. The feigned coyness manifested by their lack of communication was getting to be unbearable on her part.

Jake slowly turned towards her and crawled closer, his fingers pressing softly into the dirt of the ditch. He stopped a few centimeters away and said nothing, but continued to watch her as she finished the last button on the dirtied white button down, revealing the smooth, naked skin underneath. He swallowed and stopped staring for a moment, then looked down at himself as if silently chastising his behaviour.

"What are you doing." He said quietly, as if not even asking a question. His eyes were heavy, looking away and towards the dirt.

"We can't keep being silent all the time, Jake. I may be leaving but - we can't hide any longer that we both want something more."

Jake snorted, trying hard to ignore the warmth growing in his chest. She was damn persistent, that was for sure. Hey, he had tried to protect her. There were still things at stake bigger than the both of them combined, and he wasn't ready - or willing to disseminate the details. However, he _was_ close to just screwing all of the formalities and everything else that was holding him back, but still, he needed to get satisfaction by hearing Sherry validate his carnality. One last push back, just to see how she'd react. He sat in silence for a moment, formulating his set-up. "I want to get paid. I want to move onto the next job and not even have to think about it any more. So what do you want?"

Sherry grabbed the fabric of his shirt and kissed him forcefully. Satisfied with her reaction, Jake recoiled a bit but returned the kiss. His hands instinctively went for what he thought was the most obvious part of her to grab. She was nearly topless - just her flat, white cotton bra remained; and his hand slipped inside the left cup and he gave her breast a gentle squeeze as they both deepened the kiss a little longer. He made short work of the bra and flung it into the nearby prairie.

"Does this give you a good idea?" Sherry pushed him down into the dirt and crouched near his ear, the statement almost sounding like a low growl.

"Yeah," Jake choked. "Crystal clear on that."

Not pulling away from the kiss, Sherry's hands worked steadily at the belt that held Jake's cargo pants to his body. She fumbled with his fly for a moment, but managed to undo the button, then the zipper, then discovered his growing arousal. She brushed against it through his boxer briefs with the back of her hand, rubbing it slowly with the back of her fingernails. He moaned at the touch, then took his own free hand and delved it underneath the waistband of her leggings, then tested her own slick heat. He slid another finger inside her, then used his thumb to flicker the familiar sensitive nub at the top of her slit.

"You really want to do this?" Jake whispered in her ear, fingers still inside her.

"Yes," Sherry hissed. She showed her intent by clamping herself gently around his fingers, and for a minute, he was tempted to insert a third to match her provocative offer.

"You want to do this. Here. Now." Jake gestured rhetorically to their surroundings. They were certainly outdoors; they at least had some visual shelter from the open road in the ditch. The ambiance was certainly less than romantic; the ditch was just pelted dirt, with a few outliers of grass patches, spatters of Sherry's blood from the gunshot, a couple of insects, and a few bits of loose gravel from the road. Certainly not much better scenery than the dull cold of the hotel room last night. At this point, Jake figured they were beyond decency as he would have never figured in his life that he would be in a compromising situation where he would not only get laid twice (by the same girl) in a 24 hour period, but rather after a gunfight with a bunch of drug dealers, his naked ass to be now lightly toasted in the warm Edonian sunshine.

"God. Jake. I need..." Sherry shook the leggings off her body, along with her panties.

"Yeah, me too," Jake exhaled and began to squirm out of his boxer briefs. Sherry helped by tugging them down forcefully to his knees. Now nothing shielded Jake's ass from the grassy alcove, and the idea of this made him slightly uncomfortable, but it soon became the furthest thing from his mind as Sherry guided his stiffened member slowly inside herself. She slid all the way down his length until her hips completely came into contact with his, and she began to gently rock back and forth. He looked up at her as she straddled his hips, and the bright sunlight hit a stint of her hair. She arched her back as he began to thrust from beneath her, and he was slightly breathless at how beautiful she really was. Maybe - maybe if there was a kind and merciful God, he'd get to do this to her again one day, but for now, Jake was intent on just screwing this gorgeous woman's brains out.

Kicking off the remainders of his boxer briefs, he rolled her on her side and held her in place, spooning her while his elbows continued to grind in the dirt. He lifted her leg and reentered her, thrusting from behind. The feeling was uncharted territory for Sherry, who used her free arm to grind her fingers in the soft soil, pulling some of the grass out by its roots. She couldn't quite describe the feeling, but it just was raw, it was feral, and the feel of Jake's skin - not to mention his hands as they explored her naked body was about enough to push her over the edge. His hands found her breasts once more, and he gave them a gentle, tender squeeze.

Sherry rolled herself on all fours, her naked limbs lightly caked with the soil from the earth beneath them. Almost overtaken by her overwhelming lust, she glanced back at Jake. "From behind," she commanded, and he complied. He entered while on his knees, a thin layer of sweat rising on his skin from the increasing heat index of the day. His head jerked to the road, making sure that the clearance of the ditch was at least enough to hide his naked upper body. _Not a soul in sight, and thank heavens. _He sped up, keeping pace with Sherry who began to move backwards. This caused their bodies to meet in the middle, increasing the friction and overall force.

"Ah, shit, girl," Jake said laboriously. "You feel fucking amazing."

"Thanks," Sherry said while looking back. Biting her lip, he was in her so deep that for a moment she thought she might break him. Sherry rose off of her arms, and Jake instantaneously grabbed her hands, interlocking her them into his. Sherry gasped at the position change as he now was hitting a new spot, and an unexpected wave of pleasure began to overtake her.

_Man, I have a flight to catch, _Sherry thought out of nowhere as she rode the wave harder, stronger, using the strength in her lower body to manipulate Jake's response, which itself became as strong and forceful as her own. The slowly escalating gasps soon became screams, equally as loud from Jake as they were from Sherry. _Good to know we're on the same page regarding being loud in bed,_ Sherry thought. Although they weren't exactly in a bed, and she would have to immediately get her brain into work lockdown mode and think of this man, the man whose life she'd saved, the man who'd saved her a few times, a man that completely threw her for a loop over the course of a week, the ridiculously handsome, irritating yet amazing man who was presently just fucking her senseless - she'd have to type a report to size up to the U.N., and talk about him as if he were nothing more to her but a lab rat of national security.

She scolded herself for being too cerebral. She was thinking too much of the future, and truthfully, she didn't really want to acknowledge that it was looming any closer. Mainly because he wouldn't be there. _Just push out those thoughts, push them out, out, out..._

"Everything OK?" Jake asked out of nowhere.

"Y-yeah. I'm great. Really good, actually," Sherry answered as she felt him speed up even more, and he was close - he was damn close, as he was hitting the right spot, but a little more force was just needed to get there.

"That's what I like to hear," he said with a slight choke in his voice. Slowing down slightly, he draped an arm around her stomach, and a few blades of grass were strewn on her torso. She leaned back and reached for him, her bent arm reaching his shoulder. He leaned in and kissed her neck tenderly, traveling slowly up towards her jaw. Their eyes met and locked for a bit, and for a moment they had nothing but the silence of the day, and the steadiness of their rhythm.

"Are you ready?" Jake whispered.

"Oh yeah," Sherry breathed excitedly, and with that she felt a final wave of pleasure shoot through her, and she rode out the orgasm hard and properly, her eyes closed and head tilted towards the bright sunlight. Jake did not take long to follow suit; the mere sight of her in ecstasy was enough to send him over the edge. He pulled out and finished on the grass next to her, groaning in rapturous wonder at his own bodily reaction. He took a moment to recognize her, how wondrous she was, too - her blonde hair was piled on top of her head in a furious mess, breathing heavily, staring at him.

"Did that-" Sherry ran a hand though her hair, very out of breath. "Did that just seriously happen?"

"Yeah," Jake affirmed, equally exhausted. "Yeah, it happened. It happened all over this grass and that patch of dirt over there."

Sherry fell back to regain her equilibrium. "Heh. Yeah. Well, to the airport now, I guess." Her eyes fell a bit, and she looked up at Jake, and for a moment, she saw a flash of sadness in his eyes. It disappeared, and he located her clean clothes nearby, gently pushing them her way.

"I guess it's time," he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. W_hy the fuck did I just laugh? _He had an explanation for himself. Truthfully, this was perhaps the most awkward comedown of any sexual experience he ever had - sure, it was well-timed and it felt amazing in the moment, but truthfully, it accomplished nothing. At least he somewhat knew now that Sherry wanted him as much as he did her, but all of that wasn't going to matter in a few hours. He watched her as she began to piece herself back up together, and in moments she went from an out-of-control lustful sex goddess - back to the straight laced, by-the-book government agent he first met last winter.

Shaking his head free of all the thoughts and feelings crowding his head, Jake began to shake the dirt out of his clothing and slide it back on his body. He turned around a brief moment to face her. "How we doing on time?"

"Cutting it close seeing as how we stopped for a picnic," Sherry said, walking past him while hoisting her duffel on her shoulder. "I told you about how I have slight flight anxiety, right?"

"If you just needed a few Xanax, you could have just asked, you know," Jake said as he climbed back on the Ducati.

Anticipating the throttle of the bike's engine, Sherry locked her arms around him again, wondering if he meant that as a careless joke or if he actually meant _you didn't have to get me to fuck you outdoors on the way to the airport. _Regardless of the general professional carelessness of her actions, she wasn't sure if she fully regretted the decisions they made. She got to know her partner a little better, in the biblical sense nonetheless, and maybe it would help her type a well-rounded, healthier report. Maybe the WHO and U.N. would see Jake as a human being, and not for the antibodies, the reckless attitude, or even being Wesker's progeny. Maybe she'd do him a favor and keep them out of his hair.

While on the back of the bike, she pulled out her smartphone and began to compose a draft to a text she'd finally be able to send after so many long months. Scrolling through her contacts, she found the number and hit the name, and the phone seemed to smile back at her with an "it's going to be alright" kind of glow.

_Claire._


	7. Stop Being So Needy

**_AN:_**This chapter might hit you hard in the feels. Get your ovaries ready.

* * *

_We need to talk._

Sherry didn't finish the text, nor did she send it. Hitting "save as draft" on the glowing screen, she powered the phone off and shoved it hastily into her duffel bag. It would have to wait.

Something told her that Claire might have heard an earful of her story already; no need to send her into a panic that would involve a forced phone call on the back of Jake's roaring, noisy Ducati. There would be plenty of time to tell Claire all about it later, and maybe they'd do it over margaritas, shotgunning beers or shots, or just anything to knock Sherry out so hard she'd think she was back in China. Sherry envisioned dumping salt mounds on the back of her hand, her body already convulsing from thinking of the tangy sting of tequila. She'd need a couple from the top shelf, just from the past two days alone. No use pontificating right now over how she'd explain it to Claire. More than likely she'd be disappointed; not mad, but disappointed. It was an adverse effect of being friends with someone older who's known you since childhood, but Sherry figured that beyond the judgment and lectures, Claire would provide her with solace and guidance through all the confusion.

The time eventually came, and the bike arrived at the rural airport. The setting was as uncomfortable as she had imagined it would be; the airport layout, with its plastic plants and makeshift ticket counters made from discarded furniture reminded her of something out of a 1970's b-grade espionage film. The corridor was painted a bland yellow color, and the curbside check-in consisted of several surly-looking employees in poorly-fitting black uniforms. One smoked a hand-rolled cigarette and eyed Sherry suspiciously as the bike rolled past. The tarmac, not even enclosed with a fence let alone guidance lights consisted of three crudely designed runways, a shimmer of heat dancing in the air above each one.

There was mostly quiet as the bike rolled and stopped through departures, and a lot of looking away at the scenery. Sherry's grip on Jake's waist was loose, and her fingers twitched nervously. She imagined that maybe the cotton material of his black t-shirt was surely stretched or warped due to her fidgeting. Her eyes closed, Sherry heard the crunch of Jake's boots on the gravel beneath them, and she cringed for a minute, not wanting to open her eyes.

"Well, here we are," he said, singsongy.

A few travelers with rolling luggage in tow swirled around them, clutching small portfolios, passports, and boarding passes. Their heads were all down, rolling towards the security checkpoint without observation or care applied to anything else. Sherry eyed them each, taking a slight comfort in knowing that she and Jake were probably invisible to them. Maybe she wouldn't make a scene, and just _maybe_ she wouldn't cry.

_Fuck._

That was the last thing she wanted to do, especially in front of him. She didn't want to give him the impression that he'd managed to reduced her to tears _twice_ already. She barely escaped noticed before, she sure as hell wasn't ready to lose her composure now. He'd have to reluctantly hold her and pat her back as she sobbed uncontrollably at the absurdity of it all, and she'd suffer the remainder of her flight home with a stuffy nose and puffy eyes, the airline staff raising a concerned eye as she'd huffily sit in her seat and immediately order a double scotch and soda.

The other scenario was not as bad; she'd jump off the bike, giving him a half-hearted, stiff goodbye, and he'd eye her and nod coldly in his standard fashion, and after briskly turning around with no intention of looking back, she'd take three steps towards the security checkpoint, government credentials and passport in hand when he'd grasp her hand from out of nowhere and forcefully collect her in his arms and meet her once more for one last consuming kiss as he'd whisper that he'd never forget her or some bullshit along those lines, a few older women glaring at the public display of departure with disapproving jealously.

Sherry broke herself out of the reverie. "Great," she said to no one.

Jake steadied the bike as she leaned on the right foot pedal, swinging her other leg around. Both legs hitting the gravel, Sherry stood up straight, hoisting the duffle on her right shoulder, her credentials in her left hand. She then realised she couldn't pick an outcome, and the blank pages ahead began to drive her mad. Fighting the urge to run off and not even look back, she forcibly worked her eyes from Jake's chest to his arms to his hands resting on the throttle of the bike, back up his arms then to that neck and then a little more up - until they finally locked eyes.

Jake's gaze wasn't cold, but rather concerned - maybe he sensed her nervousness, or hell, maybe he was as frightened of this moment as she was. He was hard to read, but then again that was Jake - unpredictable yet predictable, hard yet soft; he was a broken door, closed yet opened. It was then that Sherry got to further study the rigid structure of his handsome face; his jawline and cheekbones certainly belonged to his father yet his eyes - his eyes, lips, and nose were his own, all including the long scar that accentuated his youthful yet hardened features. In retrospect, it would certainly be a good story to secretly laugh about to co-workers - female co-workers, maybe, that would gossip in small, impromptu pools around water coolers. One to file away in the archives to be repeated by mouth, different accounts twisting certain details, but the story would travel, and it would be Sherry's own.

"So I guess I'll...see you around." Jake stood there, then sliding his narrow sunshades over his eyes like someone drawing blinds on a window.

Sherry immediately looked down at her boots in reaction to the gesture. "I'll keep you updated with what the U.N. will do with your data," she said. "We might need to give you further protection if any new intelligence shows we need to."

"I think I can take care of myself from here, but thanks for the consideration." His lips twisted in something that wasn't exactly a smile but not exactly a smirk. Surely he knew what he was doing to her. Surely.

Sherry nodded. "Well, we should have what we need to implement a full-on vaccine. We'll also need to keep your relationship to Albert Wesker strictly classified."

Jake tilted his head, deadpan. "Damn. And to think I just posted a Facebook status all about it."

Sherry smiled weakly at the joke. She felt as if a growing magnetic field was surrounding her head and pulling at both ears. The buzzing of the departing aircraft made for a great distraction, but the sound waves were getting to be unbearable, and she'd have to run inside the airport terminal for shelter. _End it now, end it now, end it now,_ a voice said to her from inside. Saying nothing to him but spinning on her boots, she nodded curtly towards Jake and began stepping towards the terminal entrance when she immediately felt a gloved hand take hers.

"Hey," she heard a voice say gruffly after. Sherry then felt a cascade of warmth across her shoulders as arms squeezed her from the front then whirled her back, her face pressing into a broad chest. Taking a couple of deep breaths for reorientation, she identified the aroma of clove cigarettes and perspiration mixed with a little aftershave. Sherry couldn't help but wrap her arms back around him, helplessly burying her face in his shoulder for a few silent minutes.

"You're not going to forget about me, are you?" Jake said with a hint of muffled sarcasm from above her, and this half-joke, half-burning question made Sherry's stomach turn.

_Of course I wouldn't,_ she thought.

"Never," Sherry said, coughing. "After the U.N. and the President hear of your actions, you may just become slightly more commendable amongst the American people."

"Right," Jake said, looking down and away, loosening his grip on the sides of her arms.

"Anyway, I'm sure you've got things to do and people to see," Sherry said quietly, peering up at him. His face was quizzically blank, and she _still_ couldn't read him; there was a countenance halfway between exhaustion and elation.

They stood together for a few moments until the back of Jake's gloved hand briefly brushed against Sherry's cheek, and she tried hard not to react emotionally to the gesture. Instead, she nodded and smiled, curtly accepting the touch.

"I'm glad I met you, Sherry Birkin."

His body pulled away, and by the length of his arms, there was finally some physical distance between them. Relieved at the now growing space, Sherry hoisted her bag back up on her shoulder, nodding once more before turning away from him - and this time, she promised herself- it would be for good.

She didn't look back.

* * *

Sherry gingerly lifted the teacup to her lips.

The familiar taste of chamomile filled her senses. Her mother drank it regularly to help her panic attacks; to a sense, it _kind of_ worked. Sherry doesn't remember if her mother took drugs to relieve it, or even if she had been undergoing therapy to relieve the episodes; she just remembers the tea, and the large boiling red kettle that lived on top of the electric range stove at the old house, and how it would whistle clear and loud, roaring almost like a freight train when the water was ready. Sherry would hear the whistle, and the Pavlovian response was usually hiding beneath the floorboards of the house or getting lost in the crawl space under the creaky stairs, at least up until the whistle was silent. The dust would brush on her tiny limbs while she'd spy on her mother through the creases of light - sitting in the kitchen, alone, sipping the tea in silence while staring at the linoleum floor.

There was no whistle on the plane, but rather the roar of the engines, and the slowing, steady hum of Sherry's pulse. She takes another careful sip of tea as she partook in a common habit when taking off for a flight - looking out the window at the vanishing landscape. Muscle memory, she accounts it to. Sherry instantaneously regrets the reflex, because almost immediately she is looking for something - no, _someone _on the ground. As the crude runways beneath her become smaller, the fields of grain less recognizable, her eyes search harder, and after the strain becomes too much, after the chamomile tea disappears, she gives up.

* * *

He's looking upwards. Nothing close to a metaphor, however. His back is almost strained from the convex angle he's bent.

He sees specks of dust, dirt, fowl - all in the daytime sky. Nice in any other context otherwise, but not worth shit at present.

The afternoon sun is nearly unbearable. He doesn't know it, but his pupils are dilating madly to compensate for the overexposure. His gloved hand shields his brow, but the act is futile. Not caring about the harsh light, he continues to search, and as a result, develops an acute tension headache.

The bike throttles beneath him, and he feels it growl warmly. It provides a sense of comfort; it lets him know that at least he isn't alone. He knows he should be high-tailing it back into town by now - who knows if the gang members from earlier might be searching for their downed party members. He just needs to see, one last time - he just needs to see some form of closure to visually separate himself, or he might just go mad.

He then sees a modestly-sized jet, maybe a Boeing 737 in the distance, pushing its way steadily through the stratosphere. He's not exactly sure if it's hers, but he wants to think it is; his eyes can't stop following it, and just for his own mental benefit, he stays and watches the silver jet as it pulls itself through the wisps of clouds.

_Phone_, something says in the back of his mind. _But what the hell could I say?_ He thinks to himself. A few cookie-cutter ideas flood his brain. Nothing quite fits what he's feeling right now. A million things float through his head like binary, all broken code, all undecipherable. However, he wants her to know, he just wants her to _know-_

_To: Sherry_

_From: Jake_

_I lowered my asking price...to fifty dollars._

That's suitable, he figures. She'll know that he at least isn't _all_ about the money, but he's at least about some of it - that would prove that he's a man of sustenance. After all, he was not just a cunning mercenary, but a shrewd businessman as well. He had a thorough understanding of the mechanics of negotiation and yeah, he'd show her - maybe as a result the American government would reward his modesty and actually give him the whole fifty-fucking-million dollar sum. Above all, he wanted to prove a point - a hard one, and he'd hope Sherry would see through the smokescreen.

She would, right?

* * *

_Before we parted ways, Jake Wesker unnecessarily expressed his gratitude towards me, saying I had saved him. Truthfully, he had saved me as much as I him; I owe my life to his loyalty, courage and unwavering cooperation, and this I can never forget. Given this, I humbly ask the United Nations to cease all investigation regarding Jake as we firmly believe that our involvement has already gone above and beyond the scope of the call of national security -_

_No, no, no._ Sighing, Sherry erased this paragraph; it showed far too much bias. She pictured herself reading this in front of a panel, a bunch of foreign dignitaries raising eyebrows and chuckling to themselves about her saccharine treatment of the situation.

_Jake Wesker's blood sample was handed over to the U.N.'s leading researchers, along with six months worth of test results retrieved from Neo-Umbrella's archives. With the data now in the right hands, things seem to be finally settling down. Following Jake's rescue, BSAA officials classified his relationship to Albert Wesker as top secret, recognizing the threat it could pose to global security._

Slightly better. The writing was far from academic - anyone with a sixth grade reading level would be able to comprehend the situation. Sherry was still uneasy about the report - her task was to convey the critical mass of their experience while still masking all emotion and potential conflict of interest she might have had, especially towards Jake. Truthfully, she intended on writing sonnets, villanelles, couplets just teeming with misguided, raw emotion._ He's a good person, really, just please leave him alone. _The less articulate side of her brain just felt like crafting her presentation out of hurled, disfigured pages of the report laden with that repetitive line. Her tone was clinical enough, she figured, and that was acceptable to D.S.O. protocol, yet she still needed some closure for her own gratification.

The report needed more substance. She'd write a few filler pages about statistics, the weapons used, all injuries sustained, even a fucking _expense report_ for the time spent at the hotel. Jake's mug shot extracted from the Neo-Umbrella archives glared at her, hovering on her desktop. The eyes were focused, soulless, and devoid of any hope. _Looks like someone ran out of fucks to give on photo day, _she thought, tapping on the airline tray table. This was certainly not how she wanted to remember him. She saved the official report to her laptop's hard drive and opened a new document.

_Jake and I spent six months undergoing Neo-Umbrella's tyrannical medical evaluations. I am familiar with the unethical, uncouth practices of the researchers that prodded us like animals; I am no stranger to cold needles, hardened restraints and steel cages. As much pain as I have endured, by far, the most unbearable of the whole ordeal was the separation; he protected me as I was ordered to protect him, he served as my guiding light as much as I had been hired to do so for the sake of the world. Not a day passed when I was subjected to tests of my blood, endurance, and patience when I didn't think about him; I was not worried about him, ladies and gentlemen of the United Nations, I worried for myself. Because I knew - I knew that with Jake by my side, I was truly invincible. What kept me going, what kept me strong, was knowing that he and I would be reunited, and what would once be a void inside me I never knew existed, would once again be whole. _

_Ladies and gentlemen of the panel, you may know separation. You may know what creates motivation and how hope festers life as much as it does death. You may have felt how it is to be too afraid to ask those dangerous questions, the ones even more difficult to ask and answer than it would be fighting the most deranged, degenerate B.O.W., more difficult than facing the past to brace for the future._

_I was too afraid to tell Jake Muller that I loved him. I was too afraid of what he could be, rather than realize what he actually was. And just maybe - maybe he loved me too. He loved me half-dead, bloody, dismembered, partially naked, completely naked, and also while an unravelled, disheveled excuse for a government agent. And now that things have returned somewhat to normalcy, the challenge for both of us is to find our way back to each other. And from what I know of Jake, he is capable of wondrous, amazing potential..._

Sherry stopped typing, and without thinking did a quick control-A on the keyboard, slapped the delete key and erased the entire document, and to just be sure, threw the empty file into a partitioned disk image, choosing the 35-time zero-out override.

Opening up a new document, Sherry hit the return key a few times. The blank space of the document glowed with the former speech's ghost image on the display. Her mind went blank, and suddenly felt uncontrollably sleepy. Would be advantageous to knock out, Sherry thinks. She'd later open her eyes to the rows of streetlights in darkness, welcoming her home, then waking up to the gentle bounce of the landing gear on the runway at Dulles.

_He's a good person, really, just please leave him alone. _That's the last thing she remembers typing before falling asleep. She thought of him as she rested her eyes and leaned against the window to settle in. _Guiding light, invincible, unwavering loyalty. _The words floated in her mind like a comforting lullaby. She wrapped her arms around herself in futility, catching an iota of his scent still lingering on her scarf. It was warm, flourishing, and felt like weightlessness. _So this is what it's like to float._

She drifts and continues until she's awoken by a dull object thumping her head from above; the oxygen mask shakes and dangles in front of her groggy line of sight to the tune of shrill screams of the passengers around her.

* * *

**AN:** Yep, another cliffhanger. You can say it. "DCB, you're an asshole."

This story will take a mini-hiatus as I'm travelling to Chicago for a week of friends, family, and about 12 lbs of weight gain.

SORRYYYYY (knowing me I will probably write the next chapter while I'm on the road anyway)

My tumblr name is la-coca-dieta, as I was rather rudely censored by FF.n last week...again, follow me for lulz, story commentary, and chapter previews.


	8. Are You Mental?

AN: Here it is! A huge thank you to everyone for being patient with my ass. As always, you can follow my crazy antics and hijinks on tumblr at la-coca-dieta.

Also, a merry unoffensive Holiday to all of you reading! I love you all unconditionally, except if you ever double park. - Raye

* * *

_"Everyone, try to stay calm -"_

The captain's voice choppily cut out over the intercom as the oxygen mask tauntingly dangled in front of Sherry's groggy face. Struggling to wake, she reached hazily for the mask, blurry vignettes of the redundant safety procedures demonstrated by flight attendants floating through her mind. _Secure your own mask first and then assist any others in need. _She stretched and snapped the resilient yellow band behind her blonde locks, the awkward fit pushing some of her hair up forward, causing it to form several messy flaxen loops. The mask hung in front of her like an alien apparatus; an elephant's trunk, an exotic animal vestige. The sudden, familiar flush of pure oxygen soon filled her nostrils, and like a jolt of electricity straight to the amygdala, she was wide awakened, a cold, hard grip on her skull.

Feeling the pressure drop as the aircraft continued to descend, Sherry tightened her seatbelt and began to scout beyond her seat, hoping to maybe ensure the safety of those around her. The aisles were empty, and Sherry could not see any heads over the sea of yellow plastic masks hung rather unceremoniously from the plane's overhead bins. The plane was still a sea of belligerent noise and flashing light despite the lack of visual signs of life. Sherry dug her nails into the armrests of the seat in a secretive display of helplessness. Any other government agent in this situation would have probably taken control of the situation by now, assuring the passengers that everything would be alright, maybe a subtle flash of the badge with confident gait as she'd gradually make her way towards the cockpit, but this decision of inactivity was a frighteningly easy one for her to make, and for this, Sherry felt guilty.

_Shit, and I wonder where my flight anxiety comes from._

She reluctantly looked out the window; familiar, endless grids of tilted lights illuminated the land, inching closer by the second. Given the proximity of the plane to level ground, it appeared the plane was probably going to successfully land, of course minus the usual grace and tact usually demonstrated. There would be surely bruises, heart attacks, strokes, and lawsuits leaving the plane, but hopefully there would also be survivors. The cabin lights flickered for a bit, followed by the impromptu, rough wobble and bounce of the airplane's dilapidated landing gear on the tarmac. The initial, thundering impact was enough to almost send Sherry flying out of her seat, if it were not for the seatbelt she wore. The belt found a way to cut through her mid drift, and the rough burlap rubbed a sore rash through her pale skin.

Her laptop, however, was not as fortunate as it instantaneously went airborne upon impact, and Sherry looked up in time to see the clasp opening in the flashes of artificial runway light that poured into the windows. Before Sherry could even reach for the flying computer, her seatbelt yanked her back down into her seat as if in a display of disagreement. The computer landed with an uncertain thud, its fall broken by a plane mate seated adjacent to Sherry's row.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry," Sherry shouted across the row, the apology awkwardly muffled by the loud roar of the plane's engines and the plastic muzzle of the oxygen mask.

Sherry's apology fell on deaf ears; mainly because the laptop had hit the person square in the head, knocking them out immediately. The person lay on their tray table motionless, and from the filters of light, she saw the silhouette of a woman hunched, dressed in a starched red suit, maybe in her early forties. A second pang of guilt filled her stomach. Sherry made the decision, maybe a poor decision, to unbuckle her seatbelt and retrieve the laptop. Hopefully the laptop didn't sustain any damage, and if it did, the hard drive that contained the report she worked so diligently over during the flight could possibly be pulled out of the crumpled hardware and sledded by one of the DSO's IT people. Jake's medical data, the file photos she possessed, any other meta-tangible, digital reminder she still possessed of him lived only on that drive. It was integral that the drive would live. Her private sanity simply depended on it. "_Please come back to me,"_ she whimpered quietly to no one.

The plane now wobbling violently on the runway, Sherry ripped the oxygen mask from her face, gasping heavily at the cabin's slowly stabilizing pressure. Crouching on the floor, the laptop lay near the red-pumped feet of the incapacitated woman, the corner within reaching distance of Sherry's cold, trembling arm. Grasping toward the laptop, the plane fishtailed slightly, sending her wrist into direct contact with the nearby armrest. She heard a sudden pop accompanying a tinge of pain; looking down at her now pulsating hand, she saw that she had dislocated her wrist.

Breathing deeply, Sherry closed her eyes and pressed the bone back into place, resulting in another painful yet satisfying snap. Moving the wrist back and forth, she tightened her hand into a fist, rotating it with forceful clicks of her slowly fusing bones and ligaments until she felt no more pain.

Sherry enjoyed a brief moment of relative peace in an aircraft that was about to crash. Then, she was interrupted by a shrill, steady scream coming across the row.

An elderly woman seated next to the knocked-out passenger had witnessed the entire scene and continued to shriek loudly, grabbing a nearby sportjacket, beating Sherry with it furiously.

"Ma'am - please! Stop!" Sherry held up the newly-healed wrist towards the woman's attack to shield herself, which seemed to make the woman swarth more with fear. The woman shouted at her in a language that sounded like bits of blended Spanish, Italian, and Portuguese with broken English, - Sherry could make out pieces of the words from various romance languages she dabbled with in college, mainly _evil, blaspheme, Satan, _and _whore_.

_Ma'am, I'm not evil or a whore, I'm from the government, _Sherry thought to herself, her stomach dropping at the thought of the dry joke. The woman was no use comforting or even attempting to appease, probably because she was already in a suspension of disbelief from surviving what was almost a plane crash. Continuing to fight off the thrashing faux leather, Sherry's fingernails grasped and finally gripped on the laptop, pulling it greedily towards her body.

Sherry used whatever strength was left in the lower haunches of her backside and scuttled backwards to her seat like an injured animal. She could make the woman's face out in the flashes faltering light filtered from the plane's windows; wrinkled, eyes narrowed, scowling, hell-bent on cursing and discarding the inherent evil that was Sherry herself.

_There's so much more you should be worrying about, lady, _Sherry thought while attempting to swallow her fear. Clutching the laptop, her hands moved over the area of the back casing where the drive was housed; the polycarbonate had been badly shattered. The drive was exposed, the cables barely hanging onto the drive's pins. The corner of the laptop's gunmetal finish was spiked with crimson, inferably the knocked-out woman's blood.

She hugged the dilapidated laptop to her chest, her hand over the exposed hard drive.

She held in the drive like holding in her own heart.

* * *

"Glad you could make it, love." Alexis pulled out a hand-rolled cigarette and pinched it between her long, caramel fingers. "It's been way, way, too long."

Jake sat across from her, covering the lower half of his face with a tattered glove. He didn't want her to see that he was scowling; she probably already knew given the aloof way she crossed her endless legs, away from him, the pivot of her torso tilted. Compared to him, she was impeccable; dressed in a leather catsuit that absolutely _hugged_ her assets, she certainly did not look like a mercenary. She looked more like a dignitary's mistress, or maybe an international model on holiday from a photo shoot. Her long black hair fell around her hourglass frame, red lips smiling like blood smudged on a field of snow. Compared to him, she was a vision, untouched and unmarred by travel or labour, as annoyingly beautiful as she would be covered in the dirt and sweat of the day's work.

"Have you missed me?" She asked, a piqued inflection at the end of the sentence while looking away. It was a loaded question. Jake knew the answer she wanted to hear.

"Yes," he said, head tilted, his face expressionless. He questioned whether his answer to this was ever truthful. He was able to exist for days, weeks, months without her, without a thought, without even bothering to mention her to Sherry. On the other hand, maybe he did actually miss her. He remembered his hands mindlessly on her legs, and how he'd run up them for days. He missed the familiarity and the physical assault on the senses. He missed the payout after their meetings, especially. He turned into an automaton when he was with her, a thoughtless dispenser of money and sleepless nights. It was a place where he had always been better off. Maybe it was high time to abandon childish things and return to his old life. He was, after all, better off as a mercenary.

"Good, because I've missed you, too." Her head tilted towards him in matter-of-fact, a lock of her straight black hair falling into the crevasse between her breasts. His eyes travelled from that valley to how she held the cigarette to her lips, taking a petite puff, exhaling lightly into the cool early evening night air. She missed him, alright. Probably missed the cut he'd give her for her employment services.

A waiter stopped to attend to them, and Alexis ordered a plate of foie gras, Jake decided to play it safe and order a leg of Camargue lamb with some grilled early peaches and apricots. He wasn't too enchanted with the cuisine of Southeastern France. He'd been here several times before on a few jobs and found the scenery to be a little too pastoral for his own liking. Too many clotheslines with bright yellow sheets and modest clothing drying, too many wide open spaces, even too large for his Ducati. His french was rusty but he at least remembered how to talk about his favorite subject _merde _in its various forms; _le petit merde, le grande merde, sac de merde._

Jake was somewhat prepared for the _coup de merde_ Alexis was about to present to him. It would be a job - it was always a job, but she always managed to sneak it a little extra for him. It would be a freelancer's signing bonus, as she'd always give him when he'd accept an assignment. However, given his day, the departure at the Edonian airport with Sherry, the ridiculously long ride to Eastern France on the Ducati - something in the pit of his gut told him that he should probably not accept the per diem along with the assignment. Alexis would understand, right? He's tired, just was released out of American custody after being kidnapped by researchers in China. He wouldn't last a round in the sack, let alone ten minutes. He'd be a real snooze, a disappointment. He wouldn't be able to get it up, probably knocked the fuck out by the time she'd wiggle her double D's out of her tiny bra.

_Not going to happen, _Jake finalized in his mind.

"You're probably wondering why I brought you out here," Alexis purred.

"I thought you said you missed me," Jake said flatly as he sipped the freshly-refilled glass of water, his eyes slightly narrow.

"Besides that," Alexis dismissed flightily with her hand, her body now lowered to the table. "If you even bothered to read any of my texts, I have a favor to ask of you. Well, maybe now that it's so many hours later, _had_."

Jake remembered the text message, and its verbatim. Shit. _Favor_. Jake knew that he'd have to reciprocate for having Alexis bail him out of the awkward hotel confrontation between Sherry and the American agents. It struck him then that Alexis may know who Sherry was (and what he was doing with her) just based on local intel alone, given the lack of data integrity floating around the government agents. If that was the case, he could forget working for Alexis. And maybe a few clandestine texts telling Sherry to avoid open spaces for a little while. A few moments passed as Jake couldn't bear to continue covering his face. He placed his hand at his side as the waiter lowered the flavorless, broiled piece of meat in front of him.

No food came to Alexis, and Jake suspiciously eyed her as he began to cut up his rack of lamb. She watched him, motionless for a moment, and Jake began to slowly slice through his food, feeling the scrutiny.

"Is something wrong?" He said, looking up carefully. His eyes made contact with hers, and the eyelined-corners of her lids immediately flipped. Her sudden smile made him salivate, not out of hunger but of worry.

"Nothing at all, darling." Alexis mused. "It's just...good to see you after so long."

Jake raised an eyebrow and looked up at her, taking another bite of lamb. "Have you been receiving tips on my whereabouts?"

"Just through a few ex-Umbrella operatives saying that you were holed up in some shithole in Langshiang, being a human guinea pig alongside some American girl."

_Some American girl._

"Did they tell you anything about her?" Jake said in the same flat tone, with an added tone of disinterested conversation. His eyes didn't leave his plate.

"No," Alexis swiveled her legs to the side, and with a flip of the long black locks, she snapped open a pearl-and-gold encrusted compact, correcting a stray smudge of red lipstick. "Why, did you _fuck_ her or something?"

With a tone that sounded halfway between laughing disbelief and ludicrous chortling, she reapplied her lipstick, slowly curving the tube tightly like gripping the hilt of a knife.

* * *

The plane began to rumble beneath Sherry's shaking form, and for a moment she imagined the landing gear possibly failed. If they were on the tarmac, the wheels of the landing gear would disassemble and then follow up with a sudden drop as the weight of the plane would no longer be supported. This would be one last jolt the passengers of this tired flight would experience, and Sherry hoped everyone - if not most of the passengers would survive the injuries sustained, coupled with the fluctuating pressure and debris flying around the cabin.

Sherry's equilibrium began to spin. She held her hands up to her ears in an attempt to pacify the feeling. Closing her eyes tightly, she was able to get the cabin to stop spinning; but her eyes would open eventually and her mind was sharply impaled on a spinning pencil, and the adrenaline was quickly leaking from her body. She felt the plane begin to slow down, then attempted to gather herself; she continued to hold onto the laptop, closed her eyes one more time to stop the spinning. The pull of gravity coupled with the swinging force was too much, and Sherry pressed her face into a nearby seat and inhaled deeply.

A few unmeasurable moments of time passed, and a tug from an area above gently lifted her up.

"Ma'am, are you conscious?"

Sherry squinted at the voice, a flashlight shining steadily on her face.

"No," Sherry groaned, her head down over the laptop.

"Try to stand up, Ma'am."

Sherry managed to anchor a hand on a nearby seat, and as her vision steadied, she heard the wavering, sore groans of her fellow passengers, all sobering, all hopefully unscathed.

* * *

"You have a job for me." Jake said, trying to change the subject.

With the deftness of one finger, Alexis twisted the red tube back into its black cave, not bothering to turn towards him but rather interested in her own reflection.

"Yes, and it has your name on it, Jakey." She pulled out a nondescript manila folder from her leather satchel and unceremoniously shot it towards him, floating on the red silk tablecloth. The corner of the folder hit Jake's ceramic plate with a gentle thud, bending the corner slightly.

Jake snatched the folder and his eyes widened upon reading the dossier. He didn't know whether to be angry or overjoyed, enraged or overwhelmed at the offer. The amount of zeros at the bottom of the document were more than what he had ever seen, and would be unprecedented income, assuming the US government was going to bail on their earlier promise.

"A-are are you serious? You can't be fucking serious."

"Consider it my gift to you after being _gone_ for so long."

Alexis took the end of her cigarette and twisted it into the silk tablecloth, grinding it down until the filter was scratched raw.

* * *

There was mostly shouting, clamor, more flashes of light.

"There she is! There's our girl!"

_You can't be possibly talking about me._ Sherry's vision was slowly improving. Her brain was still adjusting to the pressure crowding her skull. It felt like the sinus infection from hell, she decided. She felt her body begin to succumb to the recirculated air of the plane, and furthermore by the physical stress brought upon the fracture to her wrist in the air. The healing always came with some other price. She'd need a few days' bed rest, a few mugs of hot tea.

The plane never made the trip to Dulles, but rather had to land 40 miles away in Baltimore. She grudgingly wringed an explanation from the plane's captain; something about premature engine failure, turbulence, then the sloppy emergency landing. The injuries were limited; even the woman cold cocked by Sherry's flying laptop had sustained a minor concussion but had no recollection of being knocked out, let alone the plane's wobbly descent from the sky.

Sherry tiredly - and stealthily walked away from the paramedics, press, and TSA agents mobbing the gate. She continued to clutch the dilapidated laptop to her chest. Once a familiar sight, a Pinkberry stand glowed promisingly in the distance. _Froyo. Fuck yes._ Out of reflex, Sherry began to fumble in her pockets for some American money, thinking about potential toppings and yogurt flavors, when the same lines from before rang out, this time louder, clearer, closer.

"There she is! Sherry! Over here!"

Sherry whirled around at the sound of her name in a tired haze, her hands still in her pockets.

Two blurry figures walking - then running towards her, with smiles as wide as the night sky - Claire and Leon.

Claire looked as absolutely beautiful as Sherry had always remembered, her long auburn hair flowing around her. Leon's saunter slowed, but he was smiling, his arms open. Sherry coughed happily and let herself be engulfed by Leon and Claire's warm communal embrace. The tiredness, physical stress, and mental anguish were now met by seeing her old friends again, and Sherry couldn't help but break down in tears at the gesture of affection.

"Sherry, are you-" Leon briefly pulled away.

"They're happy, Leon. Happy tears." Sherry placed a hand on her chest, reminding herself to breathe.

"Well, then, cry away," he said with a smile. Sherry indeed, was truthfully happy to see Leon, as their reunion months earlier had been functional yet uncomfortably informal. Claire rubbed the top of Sherry's head after kissing her on the cheek.

"It's good to see you're safe after all that, Sherry." Claire said softly. Sherry nodded, still cradling the laptop in her arms.

"Looks like that thing's seen better days," Leon said, stepping back and examining the fractured enclosure of the laptop.

"Yeah, long story," Sherry whispered, looking at her boots.

"I bet," Claire grinned. "Anyway, I got your text. Did you needing to talk to me have anything to do with what happened to that laptop?"

_The text sent, _Sherry remembered. _Oh, the roaming charges._

"Very indirectly," Sherry murmured exhaustedly.

Claire nodded solemnly, biting her lip, looking at Leon for a brief moment, then back at Sherry, with a look that said _yeah, I called it._

Sherry rolled her eyes at Claire and Leon's unspoken agreement. A slight twinkle in both of their eyes told Sherry that she may not have to do much explaining, but rather a lot of defending and realigning of perceptions.

Leon considered Sherry's fatigue, and pulled out his wallet. "You can tell us about it after you get some of that tart yogurt crap, alright?"

_Great, they've been conspiring against me this whole time._


End file.
